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Rosalind Morton 


—OR— 


THE MYSTERY OF IVY CROWN. 


A KENTUCKY STORY. 



By MRS. ALICE KATE ROLAND. 


LOUISVILLE, KY. 

CHAS. T. DEARING, 
1898. 


^ z. 2) 


14037 


Copyright, 1895, by 
MRS. ALICE KATE ROLAND. 


IG 22 1888 




1*^0 COPIES received. 



I ■=&<=! S' 


DEDICATED TO MY DAUGHTER, 
MRS. ANNIE FOOTE. 


In the desert a fountain is springing, 

In the wide waste there still is a tree ; 

And a bird in the solitude singing, 

Which speaks to my spirit of thee. 

• A. K. R. 





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CHAPTER I. 


ORPHANED. 

“The great intelligence fair 

That roam above our mortal state, 

In circle ’round the blessed gate 
Received and gave him welcome there.” 

T he sky was overshadowed by dark clouds that hung 
over the earth like a funeral pall; and the night, 
coming swiftly on, added new darkness to the almost im- 
penetrable gloom, irradiated only by the jagged whip of 
lightning that every now and then would rend in twain the 
black drapery. Then, following rapidly in its wake, would 
come prolonged peals of thunder, which echoed and re- 
echoed over the hill-tops and down in the valleys, seem- 
ing to shake both earth and heaven with its intensified and 
deep-voiced mutterings. The wind, too, mourned and 
wailed piteously, swaying the leafiess branches of the 
forest trees to and fro in wild discordant notes, that now 
smote upon the ear like harsh whisperings, then melted 
down into low, sobbing sounds, that told of misery, 
anguish and desolation, ^olus had indeed upon this 
night drawn the bolt of his cavern door, and thrown down 
his sceptre, and the unfettered blast and storm were 
abroad in the land, holding high carnival, as it were, over 
the hills and dells, in whose midst nestled the little vil- 
lage of Brookdale. All the combined forces of the ele- 
ments seemed to have concentrated on this night for the 
purpose of pouring out their pent-up wrath upon this in- 

5 


6 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


dividual little place, which, situated as it was, in this re- 
mote, unpretentious part of the world, it was strange that 
even the storm-king should have found it. 

But on this tempestuous night, not only had the storm 
with all its fury laid its hand upon the village, but an- 
other hand, more heavy still, had fallen upon it, shroud- 
ing it in a gloom as dark as that of the storm-cloud, and 
that was the hand of death. Scarcely two hours previous 
to the opening of our story, the Rev. Daniel Morton, the 
village pastor, an evangelist of the most zealous type, had 
passed away, and quickly the sad tidings had been borne 
from house to house until there was not even a little child 
amongst them who had not heard of the sorrowful event. 
And while the storm raged without, the good people sat 
within their humble abodes, with downcast eyes and 
blanched faces, awed into the most intense silence. Few 
had ventured out on this terrific night; only those who 
had officiated in making their pastor ready for the grave 
having weathered the storm, and now their sacred duty 
having been performed, these faithful friends sat in medi- 
tative solemnity about the little parlor where lay their 
beloved dead. It was hard for these good people to 
realize that all that remained to them of this kind friend 
and teacher, lay there before them, so stark and cold; he 
who for twenty years had made his home amongst them, 
dividing his time between them and his other congre- 
gations, scattered far and near. Not only had he taught 
them their duty to man and God, but he had continually 
let his own light shine in their midst, always cheerful, 
always happy and resigned; it was no wonder that they 


ORPHANED. 


7 


loved him, and were bowed down and grief-stricken that 
he was no more. For some months past there had been 
signs of his failing health, but he had continued cheerful 
and rarely ever complained, hence none of his many 
friends and followers had been prepared for his sudden 
demise. Conjestion of the brain had come swiftly and 
unexpectedly upon him, caused by overwork and a gen- 
eral giving away of his whole constitution. 

Such had been the conclusion arrived at by his attend- 
ing physician, and thus it was after a brief but severe ill- 
ness, of which, happily, he had been unconscious, his 
spirit had taken its winged flight. But there was yet an- 
. other, to whom his loss was far greater still than to those 
of the villagers, and whose grief was far too deep for pen to 
describe, and that was his daughter and only child, Rosa- 
lind, who, having just entered her seventeenth year, was 
on the verge of lovely womanhood. When, a few short 
hours ago, she had seen him, who had fllled the place of 
father, mother, teacher and companion, pass over into 
the spirit world, with a shriek of anguish, pitiful to hear, 
she had thrown herself beside him, pleading and praying 
that he would only look at her, only speak to her once 
more. But alas ! Those dear eyes, so beautiful and ex- 
pressive in life, were forever closed; those lips that were 
wont to smile upon her so sweetly and speak to her such 
kindly and loving words were, alas, silenced in death. 
And then it was, when she fully realized that he, her only 
earthly parent, had, indeed, gone beyond recall, there 
had arisen amid the din and turbulency of the storm such 
a piteous wail, that the very hardest heart would have 


8 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


melted at the sound, ‘‘Oh, father, father, come back to 
me! Come back! You were all that I had to love and care 
for me; and now I am alone, all alone! ” And the winds 
without seemed to take up the mournful cry and echo 
back the said refrain. Alone, all alone! Then, after the 
first great outburst had spent itself and the girl lay there, 
white and motionless, still clasping the stiffening form, 
loving hands had gently removed her clasp and bore her 
to her own little room and laid her upon her couch, where 
she still lay with tearless and wide-open eyes, heeding 
not the wild strife without, or the strange silence that 
reigned within, and only conscious of one thing, and that 
was the terrible calamity which had just befallen her. 
Death, that grim monster, had visited their happy little 
home, and borne away her idolized father; and now her 
heart and life were, indeed, empty. And thus the night 
wore on, the storm increasing, rather than abating; and 
while the wind wailed and the thunder rolled like the wheels 
of many chariots, Martha, the old servant, sat crouched in 
the chimney corner of her young mistress’ room, mutter- 
ing superstitious legends, of how storms always followed 
in the wake of a death, when a soul was lost; and how 
Satan ushered in his new victims with lightning and thun- 
der. But this wicked cant of the negress was apparently 
unnoticed by the orphan, for too deeply was she en- 
grossed with her sorrow to give heed to anything else; 
though every little while, when the thunder crashed more 
loudly and the wind came in more frantic gusts, the old 
woman would rise up and rush to where Kosalind lay and 
falling on her knees beside her bed, give vent to her woe- 


ORPHANED. 


9 


ful fears, in cries and entreaties. But there came no re- 
sponse of fear from the pale lips, no terrified expression 
from tlie blue eyes, that were then fixed in an immovable 
gaze upon a large portrait of her father, which hung just 
above her couch, appearing so natural and lifelike, that it 
seemed to her, should she speak to it, there would surely 
come a reply. Yes, there he was with his broad, white 
brow and clear-cut features, every lineament of which 
bespoke intellect and culture of the highest degree, while 
over his whole countenance beamed that genial sweet 
smile so habitual to him. 

There was none of that grave solemnity about the face, 
that supposedly characterizes gentlemen of the cloth, but 
instead a gleam of merriment seemed to twinkle in his 
speaking eyes; but above all these psychological tokens, 
there was none so prominent as strength of will and 
integrity of character. 

Between the father and daughter there had been a most 
striking resemblance, for the eyes were the same inde- 
scribable blue; the same classic brow and well -shaped fea- 
tures, save that Rosalind’s were more effeminate, and 
softened by the fullness of contour, that belongs to youth. 
Altogether the picture was that of a handsome man, and 
the girl that gazed upon it, was none the less beautiful; 
her’s, too, was a face of rare intellectual beauty. Long 
and lingeringly did those sad blue eyes rest upon that 
loved face, until, at last, through sheer exhaustion, the 
heavy lids closed over them; but not to sleep, for that 
was impossible! But to shut out the vision of the pale 
face, and lifeless form, which had risen between herself 


10 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and the portrait. How could it be possible! for one so 
richly endowed, to be so suddenly robbed of all these- 
senses? How possible to comprehend that all which was 
left of him was that rigid frame and marble-like face? 
How could she think of him as having gone out of her 
life forever, or how cease to listen for his well-known 
footsteps, and bright cheery voice ? And while the lonely 
orphan put all these queries before her, the weary hours 
of the night wore away; many of the villagei-s, as well as 
herself, keeping the sorrowful vigil. At last the morning 
dawned, gray and gloomy; the storm had ceased to beat, 
but the rain still fell in a slow monotonous patter, that 
only added to the desolateness which had settled upon 
the village. We will pass briefly over the sad obsequies 
that attended the dearly loved pastor to the village church- 
yard. Suffice it to say, that no duty had ever been so 
sacred, and yet so sad, as laying him away; never had 
such a hush and solemnity reigned over the village of 
Brookdale; while, during the performance of the funeral 
rites, strong men bowed their heads and wept like little 
children, and women cried aloud, all feeling that their 
hopes and joys had been blasted, and their light, which 
had shone so brightly, had indeed been extinguished for- 
ever. 

A week had passed since the foregoing events, as re- 
lated, and we find Rosalind, upon this bright winter’s 
morning, sitting alone in the little parlor of the parsonage. 
Just opposite her stands the empty rocking chair in which 
her father always sat, and while her eyes rest pathetically 
upon this reminder of him, she sighs deeply and great 


ORPHANED. 


11 


teardrops fall upon the pages of the book that she has: 
been vainly endeavoring to read. It was useless for her 
to try to put him away from her thoughts, for not only 
did the chair serve as a reminder of him, but every article 
in the room; hence nothing could divert her mind to 
other subjects. But she no longer thought of him with 
that hopelessness and wild despair that had characterized 
the first great outburst, but with comparative calmness — 
a strange peace had settled upon her spirit — “that peace 
which passes all understanding” had been given her, 
reconciling and comforting her in her great loss. How 
often in their many conversations, relating to life and 
death, in this very little room, he had said to her, “In 
case of my death, you must not grieve for me, but think 
of me as having gone on a pleasant Journey, and picture 
me as having entered in at my Father’s house, knowing 
that my mission here on earth has been fulfilled, and I 
have been called to my home above. But do not think 
of me as lost to you here on earth, for though my body 
be dead, my spirit will still live, and oftentimes be hover- 
ing over you, guarding you from evil, therefore be com- 
forted in this thought.” 

Such had been his words to her, only a few days before 
he was smitten down with the fatal attack, and now they 
came to her like healing balms. But yet she missed him! 
More especially while sitting there, for there, too, was his 
Bible and many of his books of reference piled high upon 
the table, this room having served him as a study also. 
Here, too, with her, he had read Goethe, Petrarch, and 
Shakespeare; and together they had studied the works of 


12 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Aristotle and other philosophers; for not only did he read 
and expound the Scriptures, but he loved the classics 
also, and everything pertaining to high art. For a man, 
who would have adorned the halls of legislation, and 
shown with lustrious brilliancy in the senate chamber, to 
have spent so many years of his life in this small out-of- 
the-way Kentucky village, had often been a wonder to 
Rosalind; and though she had learned, from brief men- 
tion he had made of his youth, that his family had been 
wealthy and aristocratic; also, that he had married her 
dead mother against the will of his father, and thereby 
been disinherited — beyond this she knew nothing. She 
believed, however, that why he had chosen this humble 
lot, had been with him a conscientious duty. 

Thus it was, that for twenty years he had devoted him- 
self to the ministry, claiming no creed, but striving, with 
every effort of his will, to be a faithful follower of Christ. 
‘‘By the world I am called an evangelist,” he would 
sometimes say to his hearers, “and that term simply im- 
plies a preacher of the gospel, but my chief aim and de- 
sire, while here on earth, is to follow the example of 
Christ; for, like myself, he, too, was a man, who experi- 
enced all the temporal wants of man, and bore the many 
privations consequent to the poor. Therefore, if we wish 
to be like him we must be zealous in our work, and pray 
constantly for strength and grace to guide us aright, and 
keep us humble in the sight of that ever watchful eye, 
that looks with love and compassion on all who come to 
him with faith and humility. But do not come as ego- 
tists and bigots, saying. Lord, I have done this, and I 


ORPHANED. 


13 


have done that, in thy name, and now I ask of -Thee my 
reward, for in the words of our Savior he will say unto 
you, ‘Depart from me, I never knew you.’ ” 

And so he had taught throughout the most humble 
parts of Southern States, holding series of meetings, where 
bush arbors would be erected and rough seats constructed, 
for the benefit of the large congregations that would go to 
hear him. In this way he had spent his days, at least 
the greatest portion of his mature ones, preaching the 
doctrine that Christ had taught, and seeking those who 
were poor and lowly, to impart to them these sacred 
truths. 


CHAPTER IL 


AUNT VILINDA. 

W f HILE Rosalind sat thinking of her dead father and 
his good works, old Marther came in and handed 
her a letter, saying, ^‘I’se just bin tu de pos office and 
fotch dis. Miss Rosalin.” Rosalind took the letter, and 
for a few moments studied the old-fashioned chirography 
of the address, then mechanically opened it, and read: 

‘‘Rosalind Morton: 

Dear Niece: 1 have just heard of the death of your poor 
father, and write this to say, that as I am about the last 
of your kinspeople, you had better come to me at once. 
I am only a poor old woman, and, moreover, an old maid, 
with no family, but my three cats and poll parrot, but I 
think we can make you quite comfortable. You are 
alone, and I am quite sure your poor father has made no 
provision for you; he never seemed to think it necessary 
to lay up anything for the future, and spent his life in 
that pitiful little place, when he might have commanded 
a large salary somewhere else. But he was a good man, 
if a foolish one, and 1 suppose is about as well off now, 
as he would have been otherwise. Let me hear from you 
at once, and make up your mind to come to me, for you 
will find that it will not make you feel any better by con- 
tinuing on there, I have no more to write you at pres- 
ent. Address your letter to Livingston Post Office, Mor- 

14 


AUNT VILINDA. 


15 


ton Place, Ky. And now, niece Rosalind, farewell, and 
may God be with you, is the prayer of your old aunt, 

Yilinda Marmaduke Morton.” 

It was with a heart overflowing with gratitude that 
Rosalind read this letter, for she realized that after all 
.-she was not entirely alone in the world, as one living 
relative still remained to her, who, in the kindness and 
generosity of her heart, had offered her a home. How 
‘Often had she heard her father speak of this maiden aunt, 
'whom she only remembered to have seen when a very 
small child, and could now recall nothing but a pair of 
wery bright eyes, looking at her through the brightest of 
gold-rimmed spectacles; yet often had she heard her 
lather descant upon the many good qualities, and laugh 
over the many eccentricities of his aunt Yilinda; but she 
was an old maid, and it was no more than natural that 
she should have her peculiarities. Up to this time, Rosa- 
lind had made no decision in regard to the future; in fact 
•she had given herself but little thought, and though these 
kind-hearted villagers felt that they owed to their pastor a 
-debt of everlasting gratitude, and that his daughter should 
remain among them as their special charge, Rosalind was 
far too independent to become a pensioner on their 
bounty; and though she felt deeply grateful for all their 
•devotion she was nevertheless glad to know that her 
father’s old aunt had claimed her companionship. “I 
will write at once,” she said, speaking more to herself 
than to old Martha, who stood beside her chair; then, 
observing the look of inquiry upon the face of the negress. 


16 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


she added kindly, “This letter is from papa’s aunt 
Yilinda, Martha, she has invited me to come and live 
with her; she did not mention you, possibly because she 
did not know that you were still with us, but I will write 
and ask her if you — ” But before Rosalind could finish 
the sentence, Martha raised her hands deprecatingly, 
exclaiming, “No, Miss Rosalin, not for de worl would I 
hab you do dat. Not for de worl,” she repeated, “and 
now I’ll tell you why. Well, it is for dis berry reson. 
Miss Villindy am a old maid, an ebry body sez dat ole 
maids am right-down terrors. No, I will jis stay on 
here, and by and by ‘another gud man may com along an 
take yore par’s place, God rest his soul. I does hope 
he’s in heben, but I neber will forgit that storm.” And 
giving her head a doleful shake, the old woman turned 
to leave the room, when Rosalind’s voice arrested her 
steps. “Stop, Martha,” she called, “and listen to me a 
moment; you have been a very good servant, and be- 
cause you had been my grandfather’s slave, privileged to 
say and do many things, but you must understand, that 
while I remain here you must never again refer to 
that storm in connection with my father’s name; it is not 
the first time that you have spoken in that way, but it 
must surely be the last.” “I didn’t mean eny harm. 
Miss Rosalin, but I cudn’t hep tinking bout dat — ” The 
sentence was never finished, for at this juncture Rosalind 
had risen, exclaiming passionately, “Hush! this instant; 
I will not listen to another word, and now leave the 
room! ” Whimpering like a whipped dog the servant 
obeyed, and again Rosalind was left alone. That this 


AUNT VILINDA. 


17 


girl was not altogether of a meek spirit was quite evident, 
judging by the tone of her voice, and the flashing of her 
eyes, while reprimanding the old servant, who seemed 
determined on impressing upon her young mistress that 
the storm was a bad omen that signified ill to her father’s 
spiritual welfare. Of course, Rosalind attributed these 
superstitious ideas to the ignorance of the old woman, 
and knew them to be characteristic of the negro race ; but 
such words, concerning her father, appeared the veriest 
sacrilege; hence her anger had arisen in his defense. 
If Rosalind had appeared beautiful, while in the abandon- 
ment of her great grief, what term would describe her as 
she stood there with the full light of the winter’s day 
streaming in upon her, the proud head uplifted, about 
which was wound the heavy braids of golden-brown 
hair; the pansy blue eyes wide open, and darkened in 
shade by the unwonted excitement under which she was 
laboring; a tint as delicate as a seashell upon her cheek, 
adding bloom to her transcendental beauty. She was 
not only lovely, she was divine ! For a little while, after 
the old servant had left her, she stood there trembling with 
agitation; then she endeavored to calm herself by think- 
ing how foolish it was to allow her feelings to be so 
wrought up by the words of the simple old soul. How 
her father would have laughed at such superstitions, as 
expressed by Martha; and how she, who had resolved 
within herself to copy his nobleness in every way pos- 
sible, was giving away to unnecessary anger. Thus rea- 
soning, her usual calmness soon reasserted itself, and 
again her thoughts reverted to her aunt Yilinda’s letter. 

2 


18 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


In another week’s time all her preparations had been com- 
pleted for her journey, and now that she was about to 
leave the dear old parsonage that had sheltered her in 
her infancy, and in which she had grown into lovely 
womanhood, her heart ached with that great aching void 
that only an orphan’s heart can know; while again and 
again she wandered about the dear familiar scenes, where 
together she had so often wandered with her father. 
The houses of the village were old and weather-beaten, 
with no signs of modern architecture about them, but 
they were nevertheless dear to her, for there was not one 
that had not opened wide its doors to herself and father. 
And there was the schoolhouse, with its old-fashioned 
belfry and rusty bell, where he had taught the village 
school which, alas, looked so lonely and deserted now. 
And there, too, was the plum orchard that had been so 
white with blossoms in the spring, and laden with fruit 
in summer, every tree of which now appeared so dry and 
lifeless. And the lilac, and snowball, and rosebushes that 
he had helped her plant out in their pretty little garden, 
they, too, looked withered and dead. But they would 
come forth again in all their luxuriant beauty; the plum 
trees would again be white with fragrant blossoms; the 
roses, too, would bloom in all their dewy freshness; and 
the springing verdure again be starred with daisies and 
buttercups. But never again would he watch with her 
the resurrection of these rare beauties; never again look 
upon and enjoy the opening loveliness of spring, he who 
had loved all these things so much. Yet had he not 
pointed her to this fact? Impressing upon her that just 


AUNT VILINDA. 


19 


SO the body, that had laid in the grave, would again burst 
forth in all its youth and elasticity, and be reunited with 
the spirit, that never died, to enter into the fullness of 
its joys. And his spirit would often be hovering near 
her; this he had repeatedly told her; then why need she 
grieve to leave the places of their old association and the 
sacred spot that held all that remained of him, when his 
body was as inanimate as the casket in which it reposed ? 

Thus reasoning with herself, she finally gained courage 
to leave those dearly loved scenes. But, notwithstanding 
her brave resolution, it was a sad day when she said 
good-by to the old parsonage and the good people of 
Brookdale; consequently her tears fell fast, as she shook 
the hand of many of the old friends, and Martha, who 
had gathered together at the incommodious little depot to 
see the last of her. ‘‘Be faithful and, like your father, 
live for Christ,” whispered one after another, as they said 
their farewells; and then she was hurried into the coach, 
and very soon was whirling along, leaving behind her all 
that she had ever held dear. She had never been per- 
mitted to travel alone before, not even for a short dis- 
tance, her father having always made it convenient to 
accompany her; hence she experienced all the loneliness 
and tediousness of an all-day’s journey without a com- 
panion. Having ascertained from the depot agent, at 
Brookdale, that to reach Livingston would only be a 
day’s travel, still the hours would be indeed long, and she 
wondered inwardly how she would manage to pass them 
away. By noon the train had reached Bowling Green, and 
here a great gong was sounding for dinner, where a 


20 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


twenty minutes’ stoppage was made for the benefit of 
the passengers, many of whom vacated the car for the 
purpose of dining. This reminded her of her own 
luncheon that had been prepared for her by kind, loving 
hands at her old home, and she accordingly took it down 
and opened it. 

When she began to explore the contents of the little 
basket, she found many tempting viands, such as chicken 
and tongue, biscuit and cake, and other little delicacies 
that had been put together for her own individual com- 
fort; and as she took out the food and placed it on the 
seat beside her, she could imagine the cheery face of her 
father sitting opposite her. How often had they so 
dined, when she would accompany him on some of his 
ministerial rounds, and how vividly did this call to mem- 
ory those happy, happy days! And again she was with 
him away among the Kentucky hills, hunting hickory nuts 
and wild grapes — with which the forest so abounded — and 
they carried their dinner, and just so it would lay, before 
them, composed of more homely fare, perhaps, which old 
Martha had prepared for them, and how on these hallowed 
occasions he would eat with such a relish; all the time 
amusing her by telling her of the many adventures, and es- 
capades, of his happy youth. And while these visions of 
the past floated back to her a large lump came in her throat, 
rendering it impossible for her to swallow the smallest 
morsel of the apparently palatable little repast. So putting 
it back in the basket, almost untasted, and choking back 
the rising tears, she raised the window and looked out. 
The train had gained many miles while she had indulged 


AUNT VILINDA. 


21 


in this sad retrospective view, and was then passing 
through a beautiful scope of country, and her eyes roved 
admiringly over its undulating slopes of dark green cedar, 
its silvery waters and vast woodland solitudes. Far dif- 
ferent, indeed, did these scenes appear, with the noonday 
hush lingering over them, to the dreary, rugged, surround- 
ings of the place she had that day left, perhaps forever, 
and as she gazed around upon its superior loveliness, she 
mentally exclaimed, ‘‘No wonder that this is called 
‘God’s country,’ for surely there is not another such a 
favored spot on earth.” And while she looked upon and 
admired these new and beautiful scenes, the afternoon 
wore on until the sun was sinking behind the western hills 
and the bright, crisp day was dying; then the train drew 
up to a neat little station, the brakeman opened the door 
and announced “Livingston,” and Eosalind knew that 
her place of destination had been reached. 

It was with* emotions of mingled hopes and fears, con- 
sequent to the young and timid, that Rosalind alighted 
from the coach and looked around her; but seeing no one 
except the station agent, she was just about to conclude 
that her aunt had not received her letter announcing when 
she would arrive, when a voice from the rear of the plat- 
form asked, “Is dis Miss Rosalin Motin'^’ Rosalind 
turned around quickly and saw an old negro standing 
there, doffing his hat, who continued, “I’se old Peter, 
Miss Yilindy Motin’s old sarvant, and she sont me to 
foch her niece. Miss Rosalin Motin.” “Yes, I am Ros- 
alind Morton, Uncle Peter, and was expecting some one 
to meet me from Morton Place,” replied the girl, nodding 


22 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and smiling pleasantly. “Glad to see yer Miss Rosalin,” 
rejoined the old man with another profound bow, “and 
now I’ll go fetch the carriage round; you see Miss Rosa- 
lin, dem dar critters of ole Miss’s am so darnation skit- 
tish of dem dar keers, that I’m obliged to leave dem a 
pretty considerable distance otf, ” said the old man, walk- 
ing briskly away. Rosalind looked after him curiously, 
thinking him the queerest looking specimen she had ever 
seen of the negro race; his face being so intensely black, 
and his head as white as cotton, making him appear an 
oddity indeed. And while she watched him driving up 
the beautiful span of greys, behind which came the 
creaky old carriage, she could not decide within her own 
mind which of the two appeared the most primitive — Peter 
or the coach. 

“How far is it to Morton Place?” she inquired as the 
greys bent their proud necks and, impatient from their 
long delay, started off at a brisk trot. Their speed was„ 
however, instantly checked by Peter pulling vigorously 
at the lines and calling out loudly, “Whoa! Whoa!” 
Then again raising his hat and turning toward Rosalind, 
he said, “Beg parden. Miss Rosalin, but I did not pre- 
sactly understood you; you sees. Miss Rosalin, I’se 
mighty deef, and you’l hev tu spoke a little louder,” he 
added, holding his hand up to his ear impressively. 
Rosalind repeated the question in a much louder tone, 
which elicited a ready reply. “Its nigh on tu tree miles,. 
Miss Rosalin, but we kin mek de trip all right afore dark. ” 
The girl would have asked after her aunt’s health, but un- 
der the circumstances of Uncle Peter’s deafness, refrained 


AUNT VILINDA. 


23 


from questioning him farther, so she settled herself com- 
fortably back against the threadbare cushions, and looked 
out upon the passing scenery, that appeared like a pano- 
rama before her. And then it was she beheld with admir- 
ation the lovliest part of the country through which she 
had yet passed. The great stretches of woodland were 
entirely divested of their clothing, which enabled her to 
have a full view of the magnificent bluegrass region for 
miles around. There were many handsome buildings 
thereabouts with pretty grounds attached, but chief among 
them, arose before her, by far the most beautiful old place 
belonging to this, the garden spot of Kentucky; and while 
she gazed in rapt admiration upon it, an exclamation 
of delight burst from her. It was no wonder that she 
was charmed into ecstasy with the sight of it, for none, 
not even the most critical or fastidious of the things per- 
taining to art and nature, could have looked upon this 
scene without admiring. The house, a grand old struc- 
ture, was composed of dark stone, with high roof and tur- 
ret, about which great masses of ivy had twined and inter- 
twined, until the walls were almost entirely covered, giv- 
ing to it the appearance of a great, green crown. This ele- 
gant old mansion with its ivy crowned tower, situated as it 
were, on the broad plateau of a hill and surrounded by 
the most lovely grounds, was indeed a grand combination 
of art and natural beauty. About the grounds were many 
trees, mostly evergreens, consisting of cedar, pine, juni- 
per and cypress, while here and there were dense patches 
of box and arborvitae, thus making a canopy of the most 
varied shades of green, and imparting to the scene the glow 


24 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and warmth of sunnier climes, where winter is unknown. 
There were broad drives, and circular paths winding 
about the grounds; and scattered promiscuously about 
were the most charming little summer-houses and vine- 
clad arbors. An avenue of pines led up to the front of 
the mansion, met by a broad terrace which was composed 
of dark stone corresponding in hue to the building. 
A large fountain marked the center of the parterre, while 
to the left and situated some distance from this, was an- 
other fountain and grotto of still more remarkable beauty. 

But the most attractive feature of all was the statuary, 
grouped about in the most picturesque manner, some of 
which were nymphs in flowing garments, thus imparting 
to the scene a festive character. It would, however, be 
impossible to do full justice in describing such a place, 
for only those who suddenly come face to face with such 
beauty can comprehend and appreciate it. Hence to the 
beholder this view was exceedingly delightful. Nothing 
escaped her enrapt gaze, not even the gate that opened 
upon the broad drive was lost upon her, which was in it- 
self a masterpiece of workmanship, and appeared to Rosa- 
lind grand and imposing, with its dark, stately columns 
and delicate ironwork, contrasting strongly with the deep 
green of the trees. Uncle Peter had not failed to see the 
effect this scene had produced upon his young charge, and 
had pulled up the greys to a slow walk while they were 
passing, thus giving Rosalind an opportunity to look her 
heart’s content at the old ivy-crowned mansion with its 
lovely grounds. And not until the carriage had passed, 
and it was almost lost to view in the approaching twilight. 


AUNT VILTNDA. 


25 


did he interrupt her, then he turned around, saying, ‘‘I 
seed yu lookin ober dar at dat fine ole place. Miss Rosa- 
lin! Well, dat am de propety of Jedge Underood, and 
dey calls hit Ivy Crown, but hits shot up now, fur you 
sees dey am folks what takes thar own plesur, spens thar 
winters in de South and comes thar in de warm wether, 
and brings such loads of compny wid dem. Yes sarree! 
dey am de grandees of dis remunity, I can tell you! Old 
Miss is indepentent like, and dont ax dem eny odds, but 
if she wants eny advis of eny kind, she alays axes de 
Jedge fur hit.” 

Rosalind listened to Uncle Peter’s talk concerning the 
owners of the grand old country seat and felt her interest 
quicken in regard to them, and wondered inwardly, how 
any one could leave such a lovely old home in search of 
pleasures elsewhere. “Ivy Crown, Ivy Crown,” she 
kept on repeating over and over again, thinking it such 
a pretty and appropriate name for the old ivy-crowned 
structure on the hill. She was thus thinking and cogi- 
tating within her own mind when old Peter declared his 
intention of stopping by pulling up the greys and calling 
out loudly, “Whoa! Whoa!” then jumping briskly to the 
ground he opened the door of the carriage and said, 
“Here we are tu hum. Miss Rosalin.” 

It was almost dark, but upon alighting from the vehicle 
Rosalind could discern through the gloaming a moder- 
ately large house composed of red brick, with a massive 
portico in front, about which clambered a net work of 
vines. A smooth, green yard, with a good many tall 
shade trees, and a broad gravel walk that led up to the 


26 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


front entrance. A couple of New Foundland dogs roused 
up and barked lazily as they approached, then recogniz- 
ing Peter, ran out to meet them, followed by an old 
woman. Her movements were quick and elastic and her 
voice, though a little tremulous, was not discordant, hav- 
ing none of that rasping sound that frequently accompan- 
ies old age, and fell pleasantly on the ear of the young 
girl while she said, ‘‘Kosalind Morton, 1 bid you wel- 
come! ” She held out a little withered hand and taking 
within it the soft white palm of her grandniece, gave it a 
hearty shake, and still holding it led the way into the 
house. “Bless me, child, how cold your hands are! but 
come along right to my room and get yourself warm be- 
fore supper,” she continued, hurrying Kosalind into a 
cozy looking apartment where a bright wood fire was dif- 
fusing a cheerful warmth and glow in its every nook 
and corner, bringing out into the very best effect possible, 
its plain but scrupulously neat appearance. Rosalind 
took in everything rapidly, not failing to note the resem- 
blance of the room to the dress and manners of her rela- 
tive; truly it was characteristic of its owner. While the 
girl stood there, with the soft glow of the firelight shin- 
ing on her gold brown hair, and lingering lovingly upon 
the white brow and into the depths of the blue orbs, she 
was indeed fair to look upon, and the old aunt was at 
once cognizant of the fact that Daniel Morton’s daughter 
was a beauty, and moreover had the stamp of intellect of 
a high order engraven upon her noble brow. But she 
did not tell Rosalind her thoughts in words, and only by 
the pleasant look that came into her eyes while she stood 


AUNT VILTNDA. 


2T 


regarding her was the girl made aware of the fact that 
her aunt was pleased with her appearance. ‘‘La, me, 
how you have grown since I last saw you,” the old 
woman continued, without waiting for an answer to the 
several questions she had already put to her grandniece, 
regarding her health, her trip, etc. But the orphan was 
too glad to be spared the pain of speaking, for tears were 
choking her utterance and it was all she could do to keep 
them from flowing. She longed to throw her arms about 
this dear old aunt and tell her how grateful she felt for 
all of her kindness in giving her a home, and ask her to 
take her at once into her affections. But there was a 
certain matter-of-fact way about her newly found relative 
which told her that such would appear to the old lady 
foolish and sentimental, and altogether unnecessary. 
Hence she kept very quiet, and was apparently composed. 
“I shouldn’t wonder if you are a little hungry after be- 
ing all day on the cars, and while you get yourself warm 
I’ll go and see about supper,” said the aunt, after stand- 
ing by the lovely girl for a few moments, regarding her 
admiringly. “I’m not at all hungry. Aunt Yilinda, sa 
do not hurry supper on my account, ” said Rosalind, look- 
ing wishfully at her, as much as to say, “I had a great 
deal rather you would smooth my hair, and bestow upon 
me a few caresses, than to place me before a feast fit for 
the gods.” But the aunt did not appear to interpret her 
niece’s expression; instead, however, she came a little 
nearer, and holding up her hand to her ear, said, “You 
will have to speak a little louder to me, Rosalind, and I 
might as well tell you now, that I am mighty deaf.”' 


28 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Rosalind could not refrain from smiling upon receiving 
this intelligence, for those had been Uncle Peter’s words 
also, and she wondered secretly if the remaining portion 
of the family shared the same fate. “Yes,” continued 
the old aunt, “we are a strange family; I am deaf, Peter’s 
deaf, and Marietta cant hear the best in the world, so you 
see you will have to speak loud to all of us.” Then she 
hurried out of the room. “I’m deaf, Peter’s deaf, all 
deaf, ha, ha, ha, ha,” shrieked a voice somewhere in the 
room, upon which Rosalind started up in alarm and looked 
around to see from whence the sound proceeded, but see- 
ing notlring that could possibly possess a voice, she was 
greatly tempted to try to find her way to the kitchen, 
when happily the aunt returned. “If you are about 
warm enough, we will go into the dining room,” she 
said, “but what’s the matter, child? You are as white 
as a ghost! ” 

Rosalind drew nearer for the purpose of telling her of 
the strange voice she had heard, but before she could 
form a syllable, again there sounded in her ears the same 
words, if possible, shriller than before, “All deaf, all 
deaf, ha, ha, ha, ha,” then the cry sank down into a low, 
duckling sound, which was repeated over and over again. 

Rosalind shivered with fright, and drew still nearer to 
the old lady, who said, soothingly, “Don’t be alarmed, 
child, it is only my poll parrot. She is always ready to 
repeat everything she hears, and to laugh over our mis- 
fortunes; a great bird she is, to be sure!” “What a 
goose I am,” said Rosalind, trying to laugh oflP the feel- 
ing of fear which had almost overcome her. And then 


AUNT VILINDA. 


29 


she thought how her father would have enjoyed the joke, 
and teased, and laughed at her. Thinking in this wise, 
she brightened up, and assured her aunt she was entirely 
ready for supper. On their way to the dining room she 
discovered Polly, who had perched herself within the 
window, behind the curtain. She stopped beside the 
bird a moment, and smoothed her bright plumage, and 
praised her talkative qualities. ‘‘Yes, she is a fine bird, 
a very fine bird,” said Miss Morton, senior, “and I have 
had large sums offered me for her, but no money would 
buy her; no. Niece Rosalind, nothing but death will ever 
part I and Polly.” Then, shaking her finger at the bird, 
she said, “Polly must eat her supper now; it’s Polly’s 
bedtime; pretty Polly must go to bed.” Polly remained 
silent until she was left alone, but by the time the two 
were seated at the table, she was heard to cry out, “Rosa 
must eat her supper now, and go to bed; pretty Rosa, my 
pretty red Rosa,” the bird ended by singing out lustily. 

It was too funny to hear the parrot calling her name, 
and associating it with the song of “My pretty red rose,’^ 
and Rosalind broke into peal after peal of merry laugh- 
ter. She had seen parrots before, and heard them speak, 
but always disconnectedly, and to hear this bird speak so 
readily and wittily, it was, indeed, wonderful. 

The girl’s laugh rang out cheerily, sounding and re- 
sounding throughout the old house, seeming to awake 
dead and gone echos of the past. It was like the chimes 
of silvery bells upon the ear of the old aunt, whose thin, 
colorless lips parted in a genial smile. 

“I am glad Polly amuses you so much; she is always 


30 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


in good spirits, and you will find her lively company,” 
«he said. 

Then the old lady touched a small silver bell, which 
was immediately answered by an old negress, who ap- 
peared, bearing a large tray, containing the supper, con- 
sisting of white rolls, cold ham, delicious butter, pre- 
serves, and fragrant tea, which, placed upon the snowy- 
white tablecloth, made it appear more appetizing still. 

The dining room, too, was the perfection of neatness, 
but old-fashioned in its furnishing; from the sideboard, 
and high-backed chairs, to the pretty china teacups, flow- 
ered with sprigs of heliotrope, everything betokened a 
primitive age. Rosalind did not fail to observe the per- 
fect neatness of everything, and moreover had the oppor- 
tunity of observing more closely the face of her father’s 
maiden aunt. 

Miss Yilinda Morton had never been beautiful, but in 
her the ideal, respectable, and high-minded woman was 
fully realized. Her whole life had been a succession of 
good and virtuous actions, and this straightforwardness, 
which had characterized her, had given to her face a calm, 
self-possessed expression, that nothing else but a soul at 
peace could lend to a countenance. Her extreme lean- 
ness did not admit of wrinkles, and, as she grew older, 
gave to her face a pallor and transparency which made 
her appear more saint than virgin. But the most striking 
feature were her eyes, which were large and grey, and 
behind the gold spectacles, shone brightly. 

The face was full of interest to Rosalind, and though 
there was much reserve of manner about her, the lonely 


AUNT VILINDA. 


31 


girl felt her heart going out towards the old aunt, and 
with this came a new feeling of content, to which she 
had been a stranger since she had lost her father, and 
she breathed a prayer of thankfulness, that her footsteps 
had been guided towards this dear haven, wherein she 
had been so kindly received. 


CHAFTEK III. 


DOMESTICATED. 

“ Prom the meadow your walks have left so sweet, 

That whenever a March wind sighs. 

He sets the jewel print of your feet 
In violets blue as your eyes, 

To the woody hollows in which we meet, 

And the valleys of paradise.” 

T WO months had passed since Eosalind Morton had 
found herself installed in her new home, and though 
there had been some days that were fraught with sadness,, 
she had not been altogether unhappy. 

During this time she had learned to do many useful 
things which had heretofore been left out of her educa- 
tion; books, music and drawing had been her pastime 
while under her father’s guardianship; but Aunt Yilinda. 
had taught her how to knit and crochet, and sew upon 
plain garments, until she was becoming quite proficient in 
these useful occupations, while all the time these lessons 
were going on, she would talk to her about her father, ex- 
patiating greatly upon his gallantry, high moral char- 
acter, and unrivaled intellect. “He was a man to be 
proud of, and one that had many friends, but as I said in 
my letter to you, he was very foolish for wasting his tal- 
ents in that sleepy little town when he might have held 
one of the highest positions of the land. 

32 . 


DOMESTICATED. 


33 


“My brother educated him for the purpose of making 
him a great man, but much to his disappointment he chose 
the ministry. ” 

“He was a great man; and, better than being great, he 
was a good man, and there are few like him,” Kosalind 
had answered rather warmly at a time when one of these 
conversations was in progress, and the aunt replied, “Yes, 
a good man, truly, but could he not have worked for the 
good of his country in the legislature, or in the senate 
chamber as well? Heaven knows we need good men there 
worse than anywhere else.” “But papa was not ambi- 
tious, and did not care to hold such offices; he believed 
in being humble in his way of living, and followed the 
example of Christ. Oh, Aunt Yilinda! if you could have 
heard him preaching to the great multitudes of the poorer 
classes, you would not have wished him a higher lot, he 
looked so grand and noble as he stood before them, while 
his face beamed upon them like the sun. And the hard- 
est sinner would turn from evil ways after hearing him.” 
“But, my dear child, he sacrificed himself in this way, 
broke himself completely down by his zealous work; and 
when he should have been in the very prime of health 
and vigor, was only a physical wreck. I know he thought 
he was only fulfilling his duty to God and his fellow-man, 
and though the cause was a great one, he ought not to 
have forgotten himself so completely; but he did not live 
in reality, but in the clouds, and I doubt very much if he 
knew when his body was suffering.” “I agree with you 
there. Aunt Yilinda, for I have often found him feverish, 
and his throat swollen and inflamed, after holding these 


3 


34 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


series of meetings, of which he seemed entirely unaware,” 
replied the girl, sadly. 

And thus it was that Rosalind heard much sound phi- 
losophy from the old lady, and though her plain manner 
of speaking would sometimes jar upon the nerves of the 
sensitive girl, she nevertheless was compelled within her 
own mind, to admit the truth of her sensible logic, and be 
governed, also, by her opinions in many things. 

But though she sincerely regretted that her father had 
perhaps hastened his death by neglecting his physical 
comfort and health, still there was great consolation in 
the thought that he had lived so on earth as to be worthy 
of a crown of immortality. 

Day by day did the common interest of these two in- 
crease; and, though they were so entirely dissimilar in 
everything, a tie of sympathy seemed to have united them 
from the first. 

It was true that Aunt Yilinda was never demonstrative 
with her affection^, save towards her cats and Folly, but 
if Rosalind did not share in this petting, she knew in- 
tuitively that within the true heart of the dear old wo- 
man had sprung up a warm love for her, which each 
day was ripening. Thus had the two, who had been so 
entirely alone, become necessary to each other. So the 
days had glided pleasantly by, and winter was fast dis- 
appearing. 

During this time, Rosalind had asked many questions 
about the beautiful old place, of which she had had a view 
on her way from the depot to Morton Place, and Ivy 
Crown had become a household word with them. Miss 


DOMESTICATED 


35 


Yilinda having taken pains to answer all her questions, 
besides had given her a sketch of its owners. 

“They are fine people, and the very top of society; 
but Henrietta, the eldest of the two girls, is a little too 
proud; not a bit like Camille, who is a nice, friendly girl, 
as one would wish to see; and a little beauty, too, I can 
tell you,” she said one day to Kosalind, when their talk 
had drifted in that direction. 

“Is Mrs. Underwood living?” was the question that 
followed this mention of the girls. 

“No; she died when the youngest child, Fred, was born; 
but old lady Underwood took her place, and has been a 
mother as well as grandmother to the children; she is a 
good woman, and everybody likes her, and the Judge, 
too, — everybody but those who are jealous of them, and 
that is not a few. Mrs. Wilkerson, who lives joining 
farms with them, don’t like any of the Underwoods, be- 
cause they are educated, fine people, and hold their heads 
high, and have grand folks there in the summer. But 
there were never better or kinder people living than they 
are. ” 

One afternoon, about the middle of March, Rosa- 
lind had completed her task and gone into the old- 
fashioned parlor to practice her music; the piano, too, 
wa*s old-fashioned, and corresponded in appearance with 
the other appurtenances of the room; but everything, 
from the large, old sofa, to the antiquated volumes on the 
center table, were arranged with the most perfect order; 
and over the whole room such entire neatness prevailed 
that it was by no means unattractive. 


36 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


The piano stood alongside one of the windows, which 
Kosalind immediately raised, letting in a draught of 
fresh,. cool air, and a flood of golden sunlight; then she 
turned over the music in search of something familiar. 

At last her search was rewarded by finding the old 
Scottish ballad, ‘‘Annie Laurie,” with which every one is 
acquainted; and in her clear, sweet voice she sang, play- 
ing the accompaniment. 

She was alone, and feeling no restraint, had, as it 
were, thrown her whole soul into the song. 

Higher and higher her voice soared, as she carrolled 
forth in richest melody the sweet old air. Suddenly 
the dogs rushed out, barking loudly, and Rosalind was 
made aware that some one was passing. In a moment 
the song had ceased, and looking out of the window she 
saw a gentleman riding by. That he was handsome, 
young, and well dressed, she saw at a glance; also that 
the beautiful horse upon which he was mounted was go- 
ing at a slow gait, and he was looking towards the win- 
dow. A bright fiush mounted to her face, and her eyes 
dropped upon the keys. Whoever he was, he had heard 
her singing, and she felt mortified and ashamed to think 
that she was making such a loud noise and the stranger 
had heard her. She then closed the piano, and tried to 
divert her thoughts by taking a more critical survey of 
the room. From the faded figures of the carpet her eyes 
wandered to the mantel, upon which were a pair of tall 
glass candlesticks and a plaster-of-paris image of Samuel 
kneeling in an attitude of prayer, while just above this 
saintly little form hung the portrait of a young woman, 


DOMESTICATED. 


37 


perhaps about twenty years of age. The face was not 
beautiful, but delicate, and of an intellectual cast. On 
the opposite side, and hanging on a level with this one, 
was a picture of a young man. His complexion was 
dark, and his face wore a pleasant expression; but it was 
not of the high-bred cast, as that of the lady’s. The high 
standing collar and odd-looking tie betokened him as be- 
longing to two generations back. Rosalind had never 
observed these pictures before; in fact, she had only vis- 
ited this room on the several occasions of practicing her 
music. 

While she sat there contemplating as to who could 
have been the gentleman whose portrait hung alongside 
of her Aunt Yilinda’s (for she had recognized it), the 
door opened and her aunt came in. 

‘‘Have you finished your practice?” she asked, ad- 
vancing into the room. 

“Yes, Aunt Yilinda; I have played as long as I wish 
to-day; would continue for your benefit, but am sadly out 
of tune,” she added, sweetly. 

“ Yery well, niece; the old piano is sadly out of tune, 
too; and I am not feeling well about my head; I believe 
my neuralgia is coming on again.” 

“I am very sorry you are not feeling well, Auntie; 
hadn’t we better go back to the fire, for fear of you tak- 
ing more cold ? But before we go, please tell me whose 
portrait is that beside your own. I would have known 
yours anywhere; it is so like you still; but the other one 
is not that of a Morton,” said the girl, interrogatively. 

For a few moments the old aunt stood there mutely 


38 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


looking into the face of her niece; then, while a little 
flush of color came into her white cheeks, she said, “That 
is the portrait of the man to whom I was engaged to be 
married. Of course you would like to know why the 
marriage did not take place, and I will tell you. It was 
for this reason: he died.” Rosalind saw the pale lips 
quiver, and a moisture come into the eyes of her old 
relative, and felt sorry that she had questioned her, feel- 
ing assured that by so doing she had called up sad recol- 
lections. “Forgive me. Aunt Yilinda; I did not know 
that my words would cause you to feel badly,” the girl 
said coaxingly, to which the old woman replied: “Don’t 
worry, child; thfere is no harm done. It is now flfty 
years since he died, and I have had plenty of time to get 
over it.” That night after Rosalind had gone to her own 
little room, she sat before the cheerful wood fire thinking 
of the old aunt, the romance of her youth, and the death 
of her betrothed husband, and the problem was solved 
why she had lived all these years alone. Her faithful 
heart had clung to her first and only love. Truly, such 
a woman should be honored and esteemed by every one. 
And yet, as a general thing, the so-termed old maids are 
denounced and considered the most disagreeable of 
womankind, it being generally supposed that they become 
spinsters through necessity rather than choice. But such 
is a mistaken idea, and when one becomes associated 
with them and gets a glimpse into their inner lives, they 
are found to possess many qualities far superior to those 
who have assumed the conjugal state. However ill-timed 
this digression may appear to my readers — who are, per- 


DOMESTICATED. 


39 


haps, more interested in the heroine than the maiden 
aunt — it does not go amiss to add this encomium in be- 
half of this misunderstood, and — it may be added — much 
abused, class of feminines known as old maids. The 
weather continued to grow milder as the month advanced, 
and no one would have thought of it as March — supposed 
to be the most disagreeable of the twelve. Kosalind was 
pining for a long walk, but, up to this time, had not 
ventured beyond the woods belonging to Morton Place. 

"‘It is just too lovely to stay in doors,” she solilo- 
quized, as she gazed over the broad Helds of bluegrass, 
which, in delicate colors, was just springing into life. 
So, upon one of these pleasant, sunny days, she found 
her aunt superintending the planting of some early vege- 
tables, and, after lingering beside her a few moments, 
said: “If you have no objection. Aunt Yilinda, I would 
like to go for a nice, long walk.” And the aunt replied: 
“ Yery well, child; but mind and don’t wander too far, 
as there are many roads and by-paths about the woods, 
and there is danger of you losing your way.” “Never 
fear, Aunt; I promise not to get lost,” Kosalind returned, 
gayly, as she stepped lightly down the walk and entered 
the path that led to the woods. That happy forgetful- 
ness — the young alone experience — steals over her as she 
speeds along, while snatches of song, every now and then, 
rose to her lips. Leaving the valley, she began to ascend 
the hill that lay before her, the summit of which com- 
manded a fine view of the surrounding country; the chief 
desire of her heart, however, was to again look upon the 
lovely old place known as Ivy Crown. At last the point 


40 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


was reached from which she could gaze down upon this ideal 
home, and, exhausted and almost breathless, she leaned 
against a tree and feasted her eyes on its rare and magnifi- 
cent beauties. Yes, there it lay before her, all bathed in 
the brilliant sunlight, the cedars and other evergreen 
trees spreading their boughs over the marble deities whose 
fantastic shapes shone out, dazzingly white, in the clear 
light; and there, too, were the fountains and grottos, and 
the dark-green sheen of ivy, covering the walls and crown- 
ing the turret of the old stone mansion. 

So fascinating did the scene appear, with the landscape 
stretching beyond it with no intervening haze, but vivid 
and distinct, and yet aerial in hue, that Rosalind stood 
entranced, forgetful of where she was. “It is all so 
beautiful that it hardly seems real,” she exclaimed, en- 
thusiastically, “and I will have to get nearer to convince 
myself that my sight is not deceiving me,” she added, 
continuing her walk in that direction. Thus it was, that 
in a very short time she stood at the gate which opened 
upon the drive that led up to the front of the building, 
and, finding it partly open, she could not resist the 
temptation of entering. Having ventured thus far, she 
saw no reason why she should not go within, and by this 
means get a better view of its rare embellishments. A 
few moments later she stood face to face with the be- 
witching interior. 

And there were no longer any doubts as to the reality 
of its existence, for so close was she to the house that 
her hand rested caressingly amid the network of ivy 
which clung so tenaciously to its venerable walls, and 


DOMESTICATED. 


41 


crowned its tower in wreaths of shining green. And 
there, too, were the fountains, with their water nymphs 
about them; and the summer-houses, and rustic bowers, 
of such quaint and unique designs, and the lovely trees of 
evergreens; yes, there was everything just as beautiful as 
it had appeared to her from the old rickety carriage on 
the day of her arrival, and from the hilltop a little while 
ago. So enthused was she, while wandering from beauty 
to beauty, inspecting every mythical and curious design, 
that until her curiosity was satisfied she had experienced 
no fatigue; then her weariness became so apparent that 
she felt obliged to sit down and rest a little while, before 
returning to Morton Place; suiting the action to the 
thought, she at once sought out a little vine-sheltered 
bower, and seating herself upon the rustic seat within, 
she commenced to indulge in a most interesting day- 
dream. From Ivy Crown, Rosalind’s thoughts roved to 
those favored ones of fortune who called it their home; 
and she pictured to herself the stately Judge, and his two 
daughters: Henrietta, the dark, proud beauty, and 
Camille — whom her aunt had told her was called Millie 
by the family — so fair and lovely; and in her fancy she 
could see them, in this their beautiful home, surrounded 
by their many friends, while in the midst of their social 
gatherings was the white-haired grandmother and their 
two brothers. “How happy ought they to be with such 
a home and so many to love them,” she thought, while 
comparing her own lonely lot with those fortunate girls; 
“but I should not murmur or complain, for God has 
been very good to me.” Thus she was thinking and so- 


42 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


liloqiiizing, when her attention was suddenly arrested by 
a slight noise, as if some one was cautiously approaching. 
Kosalind arose and looked anxiously around, but could 
perceive no one, and was about to conclude that her im- 
agination was playing her false, when through the thick 
vines of honeysuckle that climbed about the lattice bower 
she caught sight of a face peering at her — a face that 
caused her heart to stand still, and her whole frame to 
shake convulsively; then a long, claw-like hand reached 
within, parting the vines, and the girl realized with hor- 
ror the near approach of the most uncanny-looking crea- 
ture that in all her life she had ever beheld; a face fearful 
in its imbecility, and yet so drawn and haggard as to 
awaken pity; the hair unkempt and disheveled, streamed 
about the shoulders; the eyes set in deep sockets and rest- 
ing with an expressionless glare upon the face of the fair 
young girl. The wide mouth was sufficiently open to 
disclose the red, swollen gums, from which two or three 
long teeth protruded, giving the whole countenance a 
most ferocious expression. The garb of this most ex- 
traordinary creature was composed of some heavy, coarse 
material, which hung loosely about the form. Upon see- 
ing Kosalind, it had given utterance to a whimpering 
sound, followed by the most incoherent gibberish. For a 
few moments following the appearance of this frightful 
apparition, Kosalind was incapable of moving from the 
spot; but when it came close to her, and commenced 
plucking^ at her dress, with superhuman strength she tore 
herself away from the grasp of the skeleton-like hands, 
and with the fleetness of a deer fled from the grounds. 


DOMESTICATED. 


43 


For some time after reaching the exterior she hastened 
onward, fearing to stop a moment or look back; for it 
seemed to her that this fearful mystery was closely pur- 
suing her. While going at this rapid rate she ran with 
sudden force against some impeding object; and to her 
astonishment and dismay, she found, upon looking up, 
that this object was nothing more, or less, than a man. 
That he was also young and handsome, and wore a hunt- 
ing suit, she perceived at a glance; but not having recovered 
herself sufficiently to speak, stood there in dumb amaze. 
The gentleman, as much surprised as herself by this sud- 
den collision, was the first to break the silence, by saying, 
in a pleasant voice, ‘*I sincerely beg pardon, miss! I 
did not see you in time to get out of your way; however, 
I trust there is no harm done, or any bones broken,” he 
added, smilingly. 

Rosalind, somewhat reassured by his kind manner and 
pleasant speech, tried to explain to him that ’twas she 
who owed the apology, instead of himself, but added, “I 
was so frightened that I was hardly conscious of any- 
thing.” “Indeed! and whac was it, may I ask, that so 
frightened you ? ” “ Oh, it was something; but I do not 

know what,” she went on, pantingly. “I was going for 
a long walk, and passing Ivy Crown, I saw the gate open, 
and went in the grounds, to have a look around, and it 
was while there that I became so frightened that I almost 
lost my senses; and this is why I was running so fast 
when I met you.” “ Fardon me,” he said, “but you 
have not explained to me what it was that caused your 
fright ! ” “ Well, I will try to do so now; as I said be- 


44 


ROSALIND MORTON, 


fore, I went in the grounds, and after I had spent some 
little time in looking around, I sat down to rest in one of 
the pretty vine arbors, when there appeared to me the 
most hideous looking object I ever saw in all my life.” 

Before Kosalind could utter another sentence, the 
young man interrupted her by asking, excitedly, “ What 
was this object like; will you tell me? My name is Un- 
derwood, and Ivy Crown is my home; hence, it is my 
duty to find out who has dared frighten a lady while 
in those grounds.” 

Upon hearing this, Kosalind became greatly embar- 
rassed, and for some moments could not command her 
voice, for she felt that she, too, had been intruding; but 
as the silence was becoming still more embarrassing, she 
at last summoned courage to say, “It was very wrong in 
me to have gone into the grounds, and to you it must ap- 
pear like I was trespassing; but I trust that you will for- 
give me this time, and I will promise never to repeat the 
offense.” And while she spoke an expression of sincere 
contrition came into her face, making it appear even more 
interesting than before, and the gentleman could not re- 
press a good-natured smile upon observing it. 

“There is no apology needed, I can assure you, as 
Ivy Crown is always at the disposal of neighbors and 
friends,” he said, kindly; “but I am anxious to know 
the intruder that gave you such a fright, and also the 
name of the lady who has honored Ivy Crown with a 
visit, notwithstanding it was a chance one,” he contin- 
ued, still regarding the girl attentively. “Certainly,” 
replied Kosalind, “I should have thought of that sooner; 


DOMESTICATED. 


45 


my name is Morton, and at present I am residing at 
Morton Place.” Then Posalind went on to explain how, 
from her aunt’s carriage, she had first seen Ivy Crown, 
and how, since her stay at Morton Place, she had so 
longed to look again upon its grand beauties; further- 
more, how, on this day, she had determined upon getting 
a closer view of it, and had accordingly gone nearer and 
nearer, until she had found herself at the gate, and, with- 
out stopping to think, had ventured in. “But, the hid- 
eous creature, how shall I describe it, with its unkept 
person and imbecile expression — oh! it was horrible! in- 
deed horrible! and I cannot find words with which to de- 
scribe it,” she said, with a shudder, too intent with her 
subject to observe the sudden pallor that overspread the 
face of her auditor. But, without any further betrayal 
of emotion, he replied: “I am, indeed, happy to wel- 
come you to the neighborhood. Miss Morton, and though 
I sincerely regret the unfortunate occurrence of this after- 
noon, I am nevertheless proud to know you so much ad- 
mire my old home.” Bosalind was silent, and, after a 
short pause, the young man continued: “And now I 
think I can unravel the mystery of the strange visitation 
you have just described. There are rumors afloat of such 
a creature having been seen of late by different persons 
in this neighborhood, rambling about in a demented state; 
and, following close upon these rumors, comes a report 
of an escaped lunatic, from Anchorage Asylum, whom 
doubtless are one and the same, who, finding the gate open, 
wandered into the grounds. And now. Miss Morton, 
with your permission, I will act as your guide to Morton 


46 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Place, since you have come at least half a mile out of 
your way.” 

Kosalind thanked him warmly, and the two proceeded 
toward her home. During their walk they talked on 
different subjects, and, while drifting from theme to 
theme, he said: “I only arrived here a few days since, 
having been absent for more than three years; but, unlike 
the prodigal son of old, there was no fatted calf slain, or 
rejoicing of any kind in honor of my homecoming. On 
the contrary, I found a darkened house, and not a white 
soul on the place to receive me. But, it was nothing 
more than I expected, coming home at this early season.” 

By this time they had about reached Morton Place, 
and, on bidding her good-bye, he said: “My sisters will 
return the latter part of April, and will be glad to enliven 
your stay at Morton Place; and I trust you will forget 
the circumstance of this afternoon and enjoy your visits 
to Ivy Crown — but I am detaining you, so I will again 
say good-bye. ” Lifting his hat in a most gallant manner, 
he turned about and retraced his steps toward his home. 


CHAPTER lY. 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 

Here are cool mosses deep, 

And thro’ the moss the ivies creep ; 

And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, 

And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.” 

AS Rosalind’s escort strode leisurely up the road, she 
/ could not resist lingering at the gate and watching 
him, for in the grand form, and easy, graceful carriage, 
she recognized him as the true scion of a noble race ; and 
into her blue eyes there was an expression of deepest ad- 
miration. It was twilight when she entered the house, 
and Marietta was lighting the lamps. “ How long I have 
been absent,” she mused, as she noted the lateness of the 
hour. Then her Aunt Yalinda came forward to meet her, 
saying, excitedly, “Rosalind ; is it you, child? I have 
been so uneasy about you that 1 sent Peter to hunt you 
up, fearing that you had lost your way. Where in the 
world have you been this whole blessed afternoon?” 
Dropping into the first chair she came to, Rosalind 
replied, wearily, “ Yes, aunt ; I am thankful to say that 
I am safe at home once more; but having walked a great 
deal farther than I intended, I am completely tired out ; 
and, auntie, I trust you will not get angry with me when 
I tell you where I have been; promise me that you will 
not. Aunt Yilinda,” she continued, pleadingly. 

“ Go on, child, and tell me. I am not cross with you 
47 


48 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


often, am I? So I don’t see why you should speak that 
way.” “No, Aunt Yilinda, you are always kind; but I 
feel that 1 should not have gone where I did this after- 
noon, and that is why I asked you not to get angry; but 
I will tell you without further ceremony. I went to Ivy 
Crown.” “What! alone?” exclaimed the old lady, in 
a tone of consternation. “Yes, Aunt Yilinda, alone; I 
know I should not have done so; but the place looked so 
lovely that I could not resist going nearer, after having had 
a view of it from the hill; so I went on, and on, until I 
found myself at the gate of the front entrance, and 
thinking that as none of the family were at home there 
would be no harm in going in, I accordingly did so.” 

While Eosalind was speaking. Miss Morton, senior, 
stood regarding her almost sternly; and when she raised 
her hands as if about to expostulate, Eosalind interrupted 
her: “Please, Aunt Yilinda, let me tell you what I saw, 
and how frightened I became while there, and then you 
can give me my scolding all at once.” Then Eosalind 
told her all about how delighted she had been with 
everything, and how, after roving the grounds over, she 
had sat down to rest, and how the frightful, crazed crea- 
ture had appeared to her while sitting there ; and lastly, 
with crimson cheeks and downcast eyes, how in her wild 
flight she had ran against a gentleman, who had informed 
her that he was a son of Judge Underwood, and kindly 
escorted her to Morton Place. The aunt did not again in- 
terrupt her while she was relating'the happenings of this 
eventful afternoon; but when Eosalind had finished 
speaking, she said, “1 did not know you had the least 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 


49 


thought of going that far from the liouse; if I had, 
I should have made Peter drive you over; however, 
I hope you will not expose yourself again to such dangers 
by going to a strange place alone. As to the crazy crea- 
ture that you saw in the grounds of Ivy Crown, I have 
no idea who it is, but you are not the only one who has 
seen it about that place, and it is a mystery that no one 
has ever been able to solve. Some of the neighbors have 
seen it, and the negroes who work on the farm have seen 
it, and so has Peter, but the Underwoods deny all knowl- 
edge of its existence; so it has got to be called a spirit 
or a ghost, or something supernatural; but in my opinion 
it is flesh and blood, and that of a dangerous kind, for 
Peter says its Anger nails are half as long as its Angers. 
I never was certain before that it had been seen, and 
thought it a hobgoblin tale that had gotten out through 
the negroes, and had been exaggerated until people had 
become to imagine it a truth; but now I am convinced 
of its existence.” 

At this moment the conversation was interrupted by 
Polly, who declaimed loudly that she wanted her supper. 

The spring advanced rapidly, and, while the other 
hands were planting the corn and attending to the farm 
work. Marietta and Peter were busily employed making 
the garden. During this time Miss Yilinda and Posalind 
found much to employ them by superintending this 
work. One day while thus engaged, the aunt complained 
of neuralgia, upon which Kosalind insisted on her going 
in the house, and allowing her to remain. For some 
little while she watched Peter make the bean hills, and 


50 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


sorted out the variety her aunt had instructed to have 
planted; then old Peter called her attention, “Dern am 
de Crowders, Miss Rosalin ; de berry best garden bean 
dat is raised. Dey’s intended fo de cornfiel, but I plants 
dem here where de early corn am planted fo roasting yers. 
You see the corn am already sprouted afore we plant de 
beans.” 

This was not the first lesson Rosalind had received in 
the art of gardening, and Uncle Peter’s instructions bring 
vividly to mind the last time she and her father had 
planted their garden while at Brookdale; how they had 
planted gourd seed instead of cucumbers, and how, upon 
finding out their mistake, they had laughed over it, and 
to think only one year had passed since then; but alas, 
how many had been the changes within herself since that 
time. She was then a child, happy and joyous as the 
days were long. Now she was a child no longer, but a 
woman, who had learned the meaning of bitterness and 
sorrow. She was thinking sadly of this, when Marietta’s 
voice roused her from her revery. “If you please. Miss 
Rosalin, I will be obleged tu you fur some mor ob dem 
butter beans.” Rosalind complied with the request of 
the negress, and was again turning away to indulge in 
her sad retrospection, when Marietta again addressed her. 
“I tell you what. Miss Rosalin, no body bout here has 
sich a fine garden as Misses — not eben de Jedge — an hit 
jist beats de world tu see dem fine watermilions an anti- 
lopes dat am riz here.” 

^‘Now yous talking, Marietta, fur dat am true as gospel 
preaching, dat ole Miss does hab de berry best ob ebry- 


IVY CROWN REOPENED 


51 


ting riz here. And as tu de Jedge, he remits hit himself, 
dat our garden beats hisen out ob sight, and eberybody 
knows dat Ise titled to haf ob de credit fur hit. I always 
knows jist when sich and sich had ought to be planted, 
and hit all depinds on de moon. Miss Rosalin — everything 
depinds on de moon!” expostulated Peter, in a self- 
confident tone. 

Rosalind listened to Peter’s argument, with apparent 
interest. His reference to the Judge gave her the oppor 
tunity of broaching the subject upon which she much 
desired to speak — that of the Underwoods — and thus she 
begun: 

“Uncle Peter, isn’t it most time for the Underwoods 
to be coming homeP’ 

“Beg pardon. Miss Rosalin; but didn’t presactly un- 
derstood you,” said the old man, placing his hand be- 
hind his ear. 

Rosalind repeated the question, and Peter replied: 

“Pears to me like Master Gerald tole me yisterday 
somthin bout dem coming home pretty soon, but I can’t 
presactly member what was said; but it was to this effec, 
dat being as we were gy*ing to hev sich a yearly spring 
dat his folks would soon be home, specily since he have 
returned. Dey haven’t one of dem sot eyes on him fo 
ober free years, an him comin will fotch them sooner dis 
year. He sed, too, dat dey were gying tu fotch cumpiny 
back wid dem, an he said ” — 

Here Peter stopped in a kind of puzzled manner, and 
then resumed: 

“Well, 1 can’t tell what hit ment, as I hain’t no book 


52 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


laming, but hit was dis, dat when dey all comes he would 
be redrop; an now, Miss Kosalin, bein as you is a scollar, 
I wish you would tell me what dat means.” 

Rosalind laughed merrily at the old man’s French, in 
spite of her gloominess of a little while before, and re- 
plied: 

“He said he would be detrop, and that is French, and 
means that he will be one too many when they all come.” 

“Tank you. Miss Rosalin, fo lightnin me on de subjec. 
Hits a mighty fine ting tu hev book laming, an Massa 
Gerald has got hit, I can tell you, an he’s sich a fine 
young gentmen, tu. He neber sees me dat he don’t speak 
tu me and say, ‘How’s you Mistress, Peter?’ An now, 
since you hev come, he says, ‘How am de ladies, Peter? ’ 
An yisterdy he said, ‘Gib dem my complemets; ’ an here 
it’s way de next day an I neber tought to reliber dat mes- 
sage afore — please scuse me. Miss Rosalin, fo my nigli- 
gence, an I will try an not be so forgitful in the futur. ” 

Rosalind assured Peter of his full pardon. And now 
that her task was done, she left the two old servants and 
wandered away from the garden to the orchard. The 
great pear and apple trees were all in bloom, and with 
each breeze their odorous white and pink petals were 
showered upon her, and, sitting down beneath one of 
the old trees, she gave herself up to pleasant thoughts. 
“So he remembers me, does he?” she soliloquized. 
“How nice he is, and howl should enjoy hearing his 
pleasant voice again. I do hope, too, I will like his sis- 
ters as well as I liked him on our first meeting; but, I 
fear I shall never enjoy a vi.ut to Ivy Crown, for since I 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 


53 


saw that strange creature in those enchanting grounds, it 
seems as though I could think of nothing else.” 

When Rosalind’s soliloquy had reached this juncture, 
she looked up, and who should she see coming towards 
her but the object of her thoughts — Gerald Underwood! 
He was walking slowly along the road, just beyond the 
enclosure, and looking in the direction of where she sat. 
It was useless for her to pretend that she had not discov- 
ered him, for when she looked up his glance met her own, 
and, raising his hat and smiling, genially, he bade her 
“a pleasant good-morning.” Rosalind answered his 
greeting in a friendly manner, thinking he would pass on; 
but instead, however, he climbed the fence, and with one 
bound stood beside her. As before, he was attired in a 
hunting suit, and carried a gun, which he rested against 
the fence, and then, in his easy, graceful way, asked her 
how she was enjoying the country at such a delightful 
season of tlie year? Her answer was simple and unaf- 
fected, and when she added that she intended going into 
the woods to gather some of the beautiful wild flowers 
that Peter had been telling her about, he smiled at her 
childish ideas, and said, “Don’t do that, for fear of 
getting poisoned by those rank weeds; rather let me send 
you a bouquet. By the way,” he added, “you ought to 
see Ivy Crown now, with its white and cream, pink and 
purple hyacinths, blooming on the borders. There are 
also heliotropes, violets, and old-fashioned tulips, and a 
variety of other flowers, with whose botanical name I 
am not in the least familiar. But I stopped to tell you 
that my sisters will be at home in a few days, and I will 


54 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


be most happy to have you meet them. Millie, the 
youngest, is about your age, and 1 am very fond of her. 
As to Henrietta, the eldest, she considers me a crank 
and a nuisance, and I really believe feels relieved when I 
am away.” 

Rosalind expressed much surprise at this, then added : 
‘‘I cannot understand how a sister can think of a brother 
in that fashion; however, it may be that in a teasing way 
you make yourself disagreeable to your sister. I have 
seen boys at school, who were really devoted to their 
sisters, yet took a perfect delight in tormenting them; 
but I would not have supposed you to be of that disposi- 
tion, tho’ my slight acquaintance hardly admits of my 
forming a correct estimate.” 

To one so accustomed to listen to the cut-and-dried 
phrases of conventionality when in the society of women, 
interspersed, too, with such silly affectation, as Gerald 
Underwood had always been, there was something 
refreshing in this original speech. Her manner, too, was 
so sincere, and there was such an earnest expression on 
her face while she was speaking. Truly, she appeared a 
new phase of a girl; for tho’ her well-modulated tones, 
and correct language, bespoke intellect and culture, she 
impressed him as being entirely different from the mod- 
ern young lady; she was a girl, too, who blushed 
naturally, and exposed the very prettiest of dimples when 
she smiled, and had the loveliest blue- eyes he had ever 
looked into. 

Those were the thoughts that were passing in his mind 
while the girl, amid the blossoming fruit trees, with the 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 


55 


white, sweet-scented clover beneath her feet, stood there 
confronting him. True, he had admired her greatly on 
the afternoon of their accidental meeting, but then her 
face had been flushed with the unusual excitement under 
which she was laboring, and there was a frightened look 
in her eyes, which now looked at him with such a calm, 
restful expression within their fathomless blue depths, 
and her face was as lovely as the morning was fair, while 
every movement was unstudied grace. But how long 
would she remain thus ? he asked himself while he stood 
there beside her, noting the pink flushes come and go in 
the pretty dimpled cheeks. How long will it take for the 
flattery and adulation of the world to spoil her and make 
her as the rest of her sex? he mentally inquired, while all 
the charms of her physical and intellectual beauty dawned 
upon him in their fullness. 

Rosalind, too, was taking a keener scrutiny of her new 
acquaintance than she had done on the day of their pre- 
vious meeting, and she saw more distinctly in the morn- 
ing sunlight every lineament of his handsome features, 
every graceful movement of his fine form. 

“But why that look of weariness that she could easily 
discern while scanning his countenance? What cause 
had he, so gifted and fortunate, to become a victim of 
ennui ? ” 

And while these two, who were comparatively strangers 
to each other, continued talking, they were also engaged 
in studying one another with the most profound interest. 

Thus an hour passed briefly away, which to them had 
only appeared a few minutes, for during this time there. 


56 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


had awakened in the hearts of each an increased and un- 
defined, yet unmistakable emotion, which arises between 
those who are unconsciously drawn towards each other. 
A new and strange animation possessed Rosalind, chang- 
ing the calm of her beauty into sparkling vivacity, and 
for the time being causing her to forget her sorrow, and 
only to remember the present moments that seemed to 
disperse themselves so swiftly. An exquisite hope, full 
with ardent life, and imbued with the force of a strong 
nature, was stealing into her life; but it was of so intan- 
gible a kind that she could not have possibly analyzed it 
had she tried. On the other hand, Gerald Underwood 
felt a great admiration for this lovely child-woman, whom 
he had found, in their short acquaintance, to be so unso- 
phisticated and pure-minded; who was totally devoid of 
art, possessing no worldly knowledge whatever, and of a 
higher organization than is rarely found in woman, espe- 
cially one so young; combined, too, with that sensitive 
timidity which characterizes pure and spiritual nature. 

Part of these conclusions he had arrived at on their 
first meeting, and upon this, their second, was doubly im- 
pressed with the truth of the analysis he had made of her 
character. He was not a man to be easily impressed, for 
his wisdom of the world taught him to distrust his fellow- 
creatures, and to draw himself within himself; or, in other 
words, to draw back those sensitive nerves of response 
which connect with the personalities of others, and to as- 
sume an attitude of mental reserve, making up his mind 
that the less he expected of others the more secure 
he would be in his future content. Eight years prior to 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 57 

this he had become greatly enamored with a young girl, 
who proved herself as heartless as she was beautiful. 
After becoming engaged to her he had gone to Germany 
to complete his studies, with the intention of returning in 
the course of two years for the purpose of consummating 
their marriage. What had been his surprise and shocked 
emotions upon hearing from her, before the terminus 
of one year, that she desired to be released from her en- 
gagement with him, having found a more desirable match 
in the person of a Senator — and millionaire. Then, by 
way of conciliating matters, had added that he — Gerald — 
of course, had attached but little import to the engage- 
ment, as it was, after all, nothing but a boy and girl af- 
fair; however, she would always remember him with the 
warmest feeling of interest and friendship. At that time 
Gerald was just entering his twenty-second year; and as 
had been the case with many young men at that age, he 
liad allowed another personality to lay hold upon his life, 
which he had loved and trusted as a part of his own be- 
ing, and felt that he would have been willing to have 
given his very soul into her keeping. 

Imagine the effect produced upon his feelings on re- 
ceiving this news, that to many young men of a less 
strong wdll than Gerald possessed would have proven in- 
deed disastrous. But tho’ he was young at that time and 
full of ardor, and had entered upon this stage of life full 
of confidence and susceptibilities — and was of naturally 
fine sensibilities — thereby sustaining a severe shock to his 
loyal nature, and causing him for months afterwards to 
lose sight of the charms and possibilities that the future 


58 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


held out before him — in spite of all this, pride and cour- 
age finally came to his rescue, and again his appetite for 
living returned; he had conquered the passions and affec- 
tions of his eager youth, but all his former self had passed 
away with his first disillusion. The wound was healed, 
but the scar remained. And so he had learned from that 
and other experiences, since coming in contact with the 
world, that it was entirely necessary to keep a strict 
guard over one’s feelings, and in everything exercise 
a firm self-control. Hence it was on this morning when 
he had allowed his eyes to rest admiringly upon Rosalind, 
and his heart to believe in her goodness and loveliness of 
character, that he suddenly bethought himself, and the 
idea that he was becoming too much interestsd in this 
girl immediately took possession of him; he therefore 
determined to tear himself away from so enchanting a 
personage. 

“I will be making a fool of myself again pretty soon if 
1 linger here much longer,-” he thought, contemptuously; 
then without further ceremony he took up his gun and 
bade Miss Morton a pleasant adieu. 

Rosalind stood there for a long time after he had 
gone, wondering within herself at his almost abrupt de- 
parture. Then musing dreamily, she walked slowly to- 
wards the house. 

-if TT W -if 

The lovely month of May was only a week old when 
Ivy Crown was again thrown open; and instead of the 
solitary quiet that had pervaded it during the past 
months, everything bespoke life and confusion. A 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 


59 


wagon-load of baggage bad just been deposited on the 
piazza, and a couple of carriages had also just landed 
their human freight at the door of this hospitable man- 
sion. Old lady Underwood and the Judge bustled about 
giving orders to the servants, as to where the trunks 
should be taken, and assigning their guests to their re- 
spective apartments. For a wonder only six visitors — 
three ladies and the same number of gentlemen — had re- 
turned with the family to spend a portion of the spring 
and summer at Ivy Crown — the beauties of which were 
not unknown to any of them excepting the honorable 
Kirby Barton, whom Henrietta had captured while 
spending the season just past in Florida. The other two 
young men were a pair of most worthy cadets who re- 
sided in Frankfort, Ky., both of whom were the sons of 
old friends of J udge Underwood. The ladies were respect- 
ively Mrs. Laura Porter, a young and beautiful widow. 
Miss Nellie Stevenson and Nettie Khea; the former two 
were the friends of Henrietta; the latter, a schoolmate 
of Millie’s; all three having met the Underwoods during 
their Southern tour the past season, had accordingly ac- 
companied them to their beautiful home. The Under- 
woods were among those who are termed Kentucky thor- 
oughbreds; hence to be their invited guest was no small 
honor, as Judge Underwood was known throughout that 
part of the State to be one of its most influential citizens. 
He had been among the first to answer to the call “to 
arms” when the war-cry rang out, and, as a Major had 
ranked amongst the bravest officers, who so gallantly 
defended the Southern cause; and tho’ many — who had 


60 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


known him while acting in this capacity — still persisted 
in calling him Major, he greatly preferred being called 
by the term of his legal profession, which was that of the 
law; later he had held the office of Judge of the Su- 
preme Court; at this period, however, he had quietly 
withdrawn from active life, resolving to spend the re- 
mainder of his days with his family, sharing their travels 
and social pleasures, and by this means recuperating his 
former exuberant health. He was a kind father, devoted 
to his family, having no wish beyond their happiness; 
and at this time of life all his pride and ambitions were 
centered in Gerald, to whom he had given every possible 
advantage of both education and travel; and in this son 
the fruition of his hopes were indeed realized, for he was 
everything that could have been expected of him — truly 
it seemed that all the mythical deities had presided over 
his birth. Apparently it was an ideal family, and none 
could have seen the grand looking man, with the grace- 
ful old lady, with waving, silvery locks, and clear cut, 
patrician features, leaning so confidently upon his arm, 
without experiencing a thrill of deferential admiration. 
The sisters, too, were remarkably pretty, tho’ complete 
opposites — Henrietta, dark, tall, and stately, and Millie, 
so petite and altogether lovely. Then came Fred, a 
bright, handsome lad of twelve, who rejoiced in having 
acquired all the modern slang, and forever teasing his 
sister, Millie. 

On the arrival of the party at Ivy Croyvn upon this 
magnificent spring day, the first thought of all the fam- 
ily — with the exception of Henrietta — was of Gerald; but 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 


61 


none were so eager to see him as Camille, and immedi- 
ately after assisting in disposing of their lady visitors, 
the little sister went in search of him. This girl had 
never been happier than while rambling about with her big 
brother, who, nearly four years ago, had left her a child 
of twelve wearing short dresses and bib aprons; now she 
was almost sixteen, and quite a young lady who had for 
some time been doing up her pretty golden curls into the 
most bewitching knot, and wore the loveliest of side bangs. 

She wondered if her dear old Gerry would know her, 
and longed to see the effect of these mature changes upon 
him; and while she wandered around in her vain search 
for him, she inquired of every servant she met, “Is 
brother Gerald at home?” but none of them could en- 
lighten her. • “He was at home earlier in the day, but 
he might hab rid away later,” one had said to her. So 
Millie was about giving up the hopeless search, and re- 
turning to the house, when she caught a glimpse of him 
some distance off, walking slowly and thoughtfully to- 
ward the grounds. She stepped behind a clump of box, 
and concealing herself from view, waited until he came 
up, and then, as he was passing, she suddenly rose up, 
and threw her arms about him. 

Before he could recover from the surprise she had 
given him, she burst out, “Oh, Gerry, Gerry! I am so 
glad to see you, you dear, dear old boy; and I was so 
mad with you for not answering my last letter; and now 
you are at home again and I am so glad; so glad ! ” 

She did not wait to hear what he had to say for him- 
self, but continued to talk on in her impulsive, random 


62 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


way, and ended up at last by fairly smothering him with 
hisses. When he did manage to free himself sufficiently 
to take a look at her, he gave a prolonged whistle, and 
said, ‘‘It cannot be possible that this is the little sister 1 
left not quite four years ago ? Why, Millie, you are quite 
a young lady, and who would have tliought it At this 
Millie laughed gayly, and replied, “I suppose I am about 
as tall as I will ever be; though papa still persists in call- 
ing me midget; but I have grown a great deal, haven’t I, 
Gerry?” she added, noting that her brother still stood 
regarding her with a look of pleasant surprise shining in 
his clear brown eyes, which told her plainer than words 
that he was pleased with her appearance, and felt a great 
admiration for his little sister. 

And well he might be proud of the lovely, bewitching 
girl, with her fair hair, rosebud mouth, and laughing 
blue eyes; truly, she was a little beauty. But he did not 
wish to flatter her too much, for already he could discern , 
slight symptoms of vanity in the pretty, graceful little 
creature; so he changed the current of their talk by in- 
quiring “whom they had brought home with them?” 
“Oh, not many; only Nettie Khea, Nellie Stevenson, 
Henry Courts and Edwin Townsend. Of course you 
knew all these when they were wee bits of girls and boys; 
blit Henrietta has brought a new beau home with her, 
whom I do not think you have ever met. You see, Het- 
tie got acquainted with him while we were in Florida, and 
he got dead stuck on her, and so he came with us home.” 

Millie was too busy talking to note the look of sur- 
prise and amusement that crossed her brother’s face 


IVY CROWN REOPENED. 


63 


while she was speaking; so it was her turn to be sur- 
prised when he interrupted her by saying: 

“ jVjy little sister must pardon me for so abruptly stop- 
ping her, but I am shocked to hear such an expression 
fall from such pretty lips; is it possible, Millie, that you 
have learned to speak slang?” 

The girl’s cheeks crimsoned at this reproof, and she essay- 
ed to excuse herself by replying that Fred had taught her 
such expressions, begging that he would excuse her, and 
also promising to try not to repeat such again. 

“You are fully pardoned, I can assure you, but you 
have not told me of all our guests yet, and I am waiting 
to hear. ” 

“Oh, yes, I had forgotten; well, as I said before, 
there is Nettie Khea; you knew her when she was a little 
girl; she, too, has grown up like myself, and is quite a 
young lady; Nellie Stevenson, Hettie’s old chum, has 
also improved wonderfully, and is quite a masher; she 
and Nettie both went South with us last winter; but I 
must tell you of somebody else, whom you used to know 
before she was married, and who is a widow now, and the 
very prettiest woman you ever saw; but somehow, just 
between you and I, she does not impress me as favorably 
as she does Hettie and the rest of the family; for tho’ I 
do not exactly dislike her, I can not say that I like her; 
but she is very, very pretty, indeed!” 

Thus, emphasizing the last sentence, Millie stopped 
speaking, apparently for the purpose of recovering her 
breath, while Gerald, whose curiosity had become some- 
what aroused, took occasion to ask: 


64 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Well, I am all attention, and curious to know the name 
of the lady that has called forth so much admiration.” 

“What a scatter-brain person you must think me, Ger- 
ald, by omitting such an important item, but thank good- 
ness it is not too late, so here goes; her name is Mrs. 
Laura Porter, a widow, young, beautiful and rich; so my 
bachelor brother had better look sharp, or else he may 
fall a victim to her charms, as novel writers say; but 
what’s the matter, Gerry? you are as white as a ghost,” 
she ended by exclaiming in a startlfed tone. 

Gerald very soon calmed Millie’s fears by assuring 
her that it was only her imagination in thinking that he 
had changed color; but not so, for at her words his face 
had indeed become pallid, for the woman she had told 
him of was no other than the despoiler of his youthful 
dreams of happiness, who now, after all these years, had 
again crossed his pathway. But the feelings that this 
news had awakened within him were only momentarily, 
for all the pain that she had caused him, all the bitterness 
he had experienced at her hands, had long since died; 
and in his heart he could find nothing but a cold indiffer- 
ence, blended with contempt, for the one who had so 
wantonly trifled with his loyal affection, and this indiffer- 
ence had for the last few years influenced his whole life, 
and caused him to assume an attitude of doubt and disbe- 
lief toward all womankind. However, he had no desire 
of again meeting her, but could see no way of avoiding 
it; therefore he resolved to face the ordeal as calmly and 
courageously as possible, and was very glad to have had 
Millie thus prepare him, as forewarned is forearmed. 


CHAPTER Y. 


THE YOUNG WIDOW. 

“Upon her cheek a damask glows, 

As fine as the pomgranate knows.” 

j^INNER at Ivy Crown was served at the fashionable 
hour of eight; and Gerald — having met Millie at about 
six o’clock — had fully two hours in which to call to aid 
all his emotional balance and self-control, assuming that 
perfect indifference that had become natural to him. 
During this interval he had made a careful toilette, and 
gone to the room of his grandmother, where he had 
found his father and the old lady anxiously awaiting 
him. While engaged in answering their many questions 
regarding his health, his voyage, etc., Fred came in, who 
also gave him a hearty greeting; hence, with the excep- 
tion of Henrietta, he had met every member of the family 
when the dinner hour arrived. Later on Gerald was 
ushered into the dining room, by the two elders, with all 
the polite hospitality that could have been shown an hon- 
ored guest, where he found Hetty and her visitors all as- 
sembled. He shook the hand of his sister, and saluted the 
cheek she offered, gave Mr. Barton a hand-shake also, to 
whom Hetty had at once introduced him, then, in like 
manner, shook the hands of the rest of the company, 
and took his seat at the table between Millie and Nettie 
Rhea — directly opposite Mrs. Porter. 

65 


5 


66 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


And while the two girls besieged him with questions, 
he divided his time by answering and observing the rest 
of the guests. 

He saw that Mr. Barton was a fair-haired man of forty, 
or thereabouts, a baclielor, so Millie had informed him, 
he being the same that she had described as so “dead 
stuck” on Hettie. 

Then there was pretty Nellie Stevenson, with her 
golden hair and wide open blue eyes, looking more like 
a wax doll than real flesh and blood, and as she sat there 
coquettishly chatting with the two cadets, it was evident 
that they were fast becoming rivals. Hettie, too, was, 
if anything, handsomer than ever, with a little haughtier 
air, perhaps, and a more perfect pose of her regal form. 
Gerald observed all of this, nothing being lost upon him, 
and while he took these casual glances, and at the same 
time chatted to Nettie and Millie, he did not fail to see 
the wonderfully pretty eyes that were watching him from 
across the table; nor did he fail to realize the truth of 
Millie’s words regarding the widow; for if as a girl 
Laura Yarian had been beautiful, Laura Forter was even 
more attractive, as a woman. Her eyes were large, dark 
and soft in expression; her hair, of that indescribable 
color between brown and gold, yet with all the shades of 
the sunlight lingering in its circled coils, while added to 
this, was a creamy brunette complexion — possibly a little 
too colorless; a pair of pretty lips which appeared to smile 
naturally, thus disclosing the loveliest and pearliest of 
teeth. But the sight of the development of the magnifi- 
cent beauty of his girl sweetheart did not have the effect 


THE YOUNG WIDOW. 


67 


of awakening one heart throb of regret for the past, or 
fear for the future; and the admiration he experienced 
upon viewing her in the full bloom of womanhood wac 
such as looking upon a fine work of art would have in- 
spired. Not a feeling or emotion of their former relation 
remained, having been so totally obliterated from his life 
that he almost doubted that such had ever existed, and 
proudly acknowledged his complete mastery of himself. 
Old lady Underwood, upon this occasion, did the honors 
of hostess as graciously as she had thirty years ago, and 
the Judge appeared the same genial and hospitable gen- 
tleman that had characterized him as a model host. Thus 
it was that good cheer prevailed, and it was with a mixture 
of admiration and content that Gerald looked upon the 
pleasant scene. Fred, sitting next to Mrs. Porter, en- 
deavored to entertain her during the meal, but, though 
she smiled and appeared all attention, he was made 
conscious of the fact that she was not listening to him 
by committing the error of laughing when he informed 
her of the death of one of his school fellows, and again 
exclaiming, pathetically, when he told her that the 
Lexingtons had scored the Cincinnati team twice that 
season, and was sure of beating the St. Louis boys in an 
early engagement. “She has not heard a word I have 
said to her, but is watching Gerald instead,” the boy 
said to himself, mentally resolving that he would not 
speak another word to her during the dinner. 

Soon, however, conversation became general around 
the sumptuous board, and Millie amused them all by de- 
tailing her search for Gerald that afternoon. 


68 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“I had almost concluded that he had gone off again to 
the South Sea Islands or the North Pole, or some other 
remote part of the world, when I suddenly spied him 
out,” she added, mischievously, at which Fred ventured 
to remark : 

“I think it would have looked rightdown flunky in 
Gerald to have run off again without us seeing him, espe- 
cially at this time, when the fishing is so good, and he 
promised me in his last letter to teach me just how to 
cast a line.” 

At this speech from the boy he was rewarded by a 
look of reproof from his father and a gentle head shake 
from his grandmother. 

Then the little ripple of talk all at once seemed to 
have come to an end, and only Gerald’s voice was heard. 
He was speaking to Nettie and Millie, continuing the 
conversation that the trio had been having all to them- 
selves, and his words fell with a significant meaning upon 
the ear of the widow when he said : 

“I am anxious for you to meet her, Millie, for you 
will find her a most charming young girl, and she will 
make for Nettie and yourself a congenial companion.” 

At this speech Hettie arched he pretty dark brows in- 
quiringly, and for some moments turned her attention 
from the adoring suitor who sat beside her and regarded 
her brother attentively, while Nellie opened her blue 
eyes a little wider than usual, thus expressing her curios- 
ity to know of whom it was Gerald cohild be speaking, 
deeming him one of the kind of men who never con- 
descended to praise anything belonging to womankind. 


THE YOUNG WIDOW. 


69 


But neither by look or action did Mrs. Porter betray the 
least interest or curiosity in the subject; instead, how- 
ever, she again tried to draw Fred into conversation by 
asking him sweetly, ‘‘If he would allow her to go fishing 
with him ? ” 

Notwithstanding the fact that this woman had ap- 
peared very much pleased with every one upon this, the 
occasion of her first meeting with Gerald for eight years, 
she was nevertheless greatly chagrined and disappointed 
within her own mind, for the meeting between herself 
and Gerald had not been what she had expected. 

Had Gerald evinced any coldness or restraint in his 
demeanor towards her, or appeared less self-poised and 
independent, she would have felt no doubts but that he 
still suffered the pangs her rejection had caused him. 
But on the other hand he had met her calmly and greeted 
her pleasantly, with no token whatever of sadness or re- 
gret lingering over him, and not one vestige of that 
youthful adoration remained in his countenance which 
at the time of their parting had been expressed in every 
glance of his speaking eyes. 

All this she realized at once, and moreover, that all the 
promises of his youth had indeed been fulfilled; for tho’ 
nothing of the sentimental lover could be traced in the 
handsome features of this man, the look of firm resolve and 
determination that had settled there were far more worthy 
of admiration; but above all she noted more particularly 
the expression of perfect indifference with which he re- 
garded her. Hence she saw at once that all was changed 
with him, and that there was no sign of any desire on his 


70 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


part to again take up the role of the lover, and spend his 
time in composing little poems to her eyes, lips, and hair, 
as he had done in days of yore. 

No! she learned from his face, which she had been so 
carefully studying, that the lover of her girlhood was 
very different indeed from the man she had found on that 
day. This realization with her only added to his attract- 
iveness and made her more desirous of again winning 
him to her; the task would of course not be so easy as it 
had been before, therefore would be far more interesting. 

But would she succeed? That was the question she 
asked herself an hour later, when she had sought her own 
room to think over these things, and hide the humiliation 
occasioned by Gerald’s manner towards her. Headache 
had been her plea for retiring at such an early hour, and 
now that she was sure of no one disturbing her, she took 
the opportunity of studying herself in the large mirror 
before her. As has been before stated, she was a woman 
possessed of extraordinary beauty, with no decided type, 
for though her eyes were lustriously dark, her hair was 
of the order of a blonde; not above the medium height, 
and not as tall as Henrietta by perhaps two inches; but 
her figure was plump and symmetrical, with all the rounded 
curves of youth. 

Upon this evening there was an unwonted brilliancy in 
her eyes and color in her cheeks, giving to the creamy 
complexion the tint of peach blossoms, which added won- 
derfully to her beauty. That she was satisfied with the 
image the mirror refiected was evident, for a bright smile 
wreathed her pretty lips, bringing out the dimples in her 


THE YOUNG WIDOW. 


71 


rounded cheeks to the best possible advantage. “Yes, I 
shall win; why shouldn’t I — with beauty, wealth, and 
everything that is calculated to make a woman alluring 
to man? But I will have to use a little rouge, as this 
black makes me appear paler than ever, and I have dis- 
covered this evening that pink cheeks are very becoming 
to me; they were always pink when Gerald was so fond 
of me, and I will look more like myself with the use of a 
cosmetic.” 

And thus the young widow sat through the solitary 
hours, thinking out and planning the best method of 
again drawing Gerald to her side. Her marriage to Sen- 
ator Porter had been of a mercenary character, but it had 
been the accomplishment of her ambitious dreams and 
satisfied her desire for admiration. 

But she had sacrificed all the better feeling her vain 
heart had possessed, which Gerald alone had awakened, 
and now the one great hope that she had in life was to 
renew their former relation, which would eventually end 
in her becoming his wife. 

With this object in view, she had managed to ingratiate 
herself into the good graces of Hettie; and upon learning 
that Gerald was expected home from his tour throughout 
the land of the Orient, had accepted the invitation of the 
sister to make one of her summer guests at “Ivy Crown.” 
While Mrs. Porter considered these possibilities in her 
room, Gerald and Millie were discussing some one else, 
and that one was Kosalind Morton. Edwin Townsend 
had, through jealousy and spite, transferred his attention 
to Nettie Khea, and, as the two promenaded about 


72 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the grounds in the moonlight, Hettie and the Hon. Mr. 
Barton sat in the parlor and talked in low tones, while 
Nellie Stevenson and Henry Courts played dominoes in a 
remote corner of the same room. Hence, since all were 
so appropriately, and apparently happily paired off, 
Millie and Gerald found a chance of enjoying a quiet tete- 
a-tete. Gerald had been describing Rosalind to Millie 
at her earnest request. ‘‘And this girl is about my own 
age, you say, Gerry ?” she asked, eagerly. 

“Yes, or probably a year or so older, though she 
doesn’t look a day, but is more womanish in her man- 
ners; however, I will take you over to Morton Place 
to-morrow and introduce you, so you can judge of her 
from your own point of view.” 

“Oh, thank you, Gerry; you were always good to me, 
and I shall try my very best to please you about every- 
thing. But tell me, how do you like the pretty widow?” 

Gerald’s brow grew a little dark for a moment, while 
he seemed to be pondering within his own mind what 
reply to make to this very inopportune query; then, see- 
ing that Millie was regarding him closely, he said: 

“Well, really, Millie, 1 am almost ashamed to admit it, 
but 1 haven’t given the lady a single thought since I met 
her at dinner; but you were right in calling her pretty, 
for she is, indeed, a handsome woman.” 

“And so there is no danger of you falling in love with 
her, then, since you were not affected on first sight, is 
there, Gerry?” Millie asked, thoughtfully. 

“Not in the least, little sister. Is it possible that you 
do not know that I am a confirmed old bachelor? ” 


THE YOUNG WIDOW. 


73 


“Yes, I heard Hettie telling Mrs. Porter the other day 
that you were one, and I thought I would ask you about 
it, and now is about as good a time as I will have. So 
please tell me how it is done.” By this Gerald begun 
to look puzzled, and asked, “How what is done, Millie? 
I really do not know what you are driving at, and am 
waiting to be enlightened before I can answer your ques- 
tion.” 

“Why, the confirmation, of course; what ceremonies 
did you go through in taking these vows ? and what kind 
of robes do men wear upon these occasions? and is 
it like joining other secret societies, such as the Odd 
Fellows and Masons, where every member, upon their 
initiation, has to ride a goat and climb a slick pole? 
Please tell me all about it, Gerry; I am just dying to 
know.” The pretty piquant face of the girl wore an ex- 
pression of semi-seriousness, and it was hard to decipher 
whether she was in jest or earnest while plying these 
questions to her big brother. However, he was ready for 
the emergency, whatever it might be, and said, jovially, 
“1 would take pleasure in imparting to you the knowledge 
of these things and the ceremonies attending them, but 
then you know it would no longer be a secret, and it 
would also be breaking faith with the order, the penalty 
of which might be very severe; and I am quite sure,” he 
added, letting his voice drop into a tone as serious as 
that of her own, “that my little sister would not have me 
do anything of this kind.” 

“Ho, of course not, but I am surprised that you should 
have pledged yourself to an order that will never allow 


74 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


you to inarry, and you will have to live to be a cross old 
man all by yourself.” 

The pretty eyes of the girl wore a sorrowful look, and 
her voice was full of anxiety while she spoke. Seeing 
that Millie believed him to be in earnest about the exist- 
ence of such a society, Gerald commenced to laugh. 

“ I really believe you thought I meant that there was 
in truth such a fraternity — which there possibly may be ; 
however, 1 am not a member and do not ever expect to 
make absurd pledges to man; still, one can make up his 
mind upon a subject and be as firm in belief and inten- 
tion as if he had signed a dozen pledges. I have almost 
become convinced within my own mind that I shall never 
marry, tho’ I have taken no vow to that effect.” 

Millie pouted prettily, appearing somewhat disconcerted 
at the idea of Gerald having given her the laugh, agree- 
able to Fred’s term of it, but Gerald’s kind manner and 
unusual talkativeness soon dispelled every vestige of ill- 
humor, and caused her to become so absorbed in listening 
to his animated narration of incidents of his travels as to 
soon forget the circumstance. Then she in turn gave him 
a graphic description of her Southern tour, dwelling with 
enthusiasm upon her stay in New Orleans, how their 
party had been escorted by the elegant proprietor of the 
St. Charles Hotel on a visit to his beautiful sugar planta- 
tion, and how much they had all been made to feel at 
home while stopping there. Thus it was that the brother 
and sister became so much interested in each other that 
they forgot to note the flight of time until reminded of it 
by a clock in some distant part of the house chiming the 
hour of midnight. 


THE YOUNG WIDOW. 


75 

“I fear my little sister has lost her beauty-sleep on 
my account this evening, and I will not keep you up any 
longer, for there is danger of you not being able to pay 
our visit to-morrow,” Gerald said as they were separating 
for the night. 

“Oh, never fear that I would let anything hinder me 
from paying that,” replied Millie, gayly, then she added 
saucily, “Be sure and dream of the pretty widow to- 
night!” and with this the laughing face disappeared up 
the stairs, and Gerald, too, retired to his own room. 


CHAPTER YI. 

MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


“At length I saw a lady within call, 

Stiller than chiseled marble standing there ; 

A daughter of the gods divinely tall, 

And most divinely fair.” 

IDAIN in the forenoon on the following day prevented 
* V Millie and Gerald from paying their intended morn- 
ing call, and as some gentleman visitors were there for 
luncheon, remaining several hours afterwards, it was al- 
most four o’clock in the afternoon before the two could 
steal away unobserved and make their way towards Mor- 
ton Place. 

The day was radiant with sunshine and flowers, and 
the air pure and sweet, refreshed by the morning shower, 
whose glistening drops still lingered on leaf and blossom 
and hung suspended from overshadowing branches, thus 
resembling in the glittering sunlight the most precious 
gems, lending to Ivy Crown a loveliness almost divine. 

As the sister and brother launched forth into the beauty 
of the outer world, and side by side passed from the lovely 
grounds into the sylvan wood that divided their home 
from their neighbors, Millie’s spirits rose, and she chat- 
ted incessantly as they traversed the woodland pathway. 

At last the summit of the hill which lay between Ivy 
Crown and Morton Place was reached, and as the walls 
of the old red house loomed up before them there arose 

76 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


77 


another vision, much nearer and far more desirable to 
look upon, which was that of a young and beautiful girl. 
That she had not observed the couple walking towards her 
was evident from the fact that she continued in the effort 
of reaching a limb of snowy dog- wood blossoms that were 
somewhat removed from her grasp. Her face being partly 
turned away, it was impossible to have a good view of it, 
but Millie was satisfied of its rare beauty by the sight of 
the pretty profile and graceful poise of the white neck 
and symmetrical figure. And while the girl stood there, 
entirely unconscious of the fact that two pair of eyes were 
regarding her intently, Millie exclaimed, sotto voce: 

“It is she, Gerry, and what a very pretty girl she is, 
and how beautifully tall ! ” 

“Divinely tall, you mean,” corrected the brother. 

“Yes, I know whatever you say is right, of course, 
Gerry, but I think her just lovely; but do cough or make 
some kind of noise before we come right up to her; it 
will be so embarrassing and startle her so much.” 

However, before Gerald could carry out this sugges- 
tion, Kosalind had turned about and stood facing them ; 
but there was no token of embarrassment in her manner, 
and only a little deeper fiush came into the dimpled 
cheeks, as she greeted Gerald pleasantly, who at once 
presented her to Millie. 

“I am so glad to know you, and to hear that we are 
neighbors,” said Millie, in her sweet, childish way, shak- 
ing hands with Kosalind, and bestowing upon her one of 
her most witching smiles. 

The friendliness of the girl communicated itself at 


78 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


once to Rosalind, making her feel as if she had met an 
old acquaintance instead of a stranger, and there was a 
ring of genuine pleasure in the clear sweet voice when 
she replied: 

“And I, too, am very happy to know you, and trust 
that we shall be the best of friends.” 

There was nothing of the usual formula of repeating 
names between the two upon being introduced, and 
Oerald thought he had never witnessed a meeting so 
original and free from effect, especially where two girls 
were concerned. 

There was no doubt but that the admiration of the two 
was .mutual, judging from the pleased expression that 
stole into the face of each upon being presented. 

“How lovely she is,” Rosalind was repeating to her- 
self, and Millie in like manner was saying, “The very 
sweetest and prettiest girl I ever met, but how different 
from all the rest of them; and there is nothing flip about 
her either — at least that’s the way Fred would put it — 
but her manners are perfect, and she has such lovely 
■eyes,” she added, thus ending her mental cogitations. 

“We were just coming to pay you a call,” replied Mil- 
lie, when Rosalind proposed going to the house, “and it 
is very fortunate we found you; I am so glad you came in 
this direction, or else we would have perhaps missed see- 
ing you to-day.” And as the three walked on; the girls 
chatted as if they had known each other always, while 
Gerald was content to listen, replying in monosyllables 
only to Millie’s interrogations and the several remarks 
that Rosalind addressed to him. 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


79 


Miss Morton, senior, received her niece’s visitors in 
her usual kind but undemonstrative manner; nor did she 
forget her duties as hostess. Therefore, while the young 
people talked the old lady summoned Marietta by ringing 
a small silver bell, who, upon answering the summons, 
only had to glance into the room to learn what was required 
of her, then hastened to dispense her mistress’ hospitality 
among her guests. In a few moments she returned with 
a tray of tempting fruit, cake, and also a decanter of cool 
delicious claret, of which they all partook heartily. 

‘‘One can well appreciate Kentucky hospitality after 
having wandered around the world a few years,” Gerald 
remarked, after having repeatedly praised the cake, 
olaret, etc. 

Whereupon, Miss Yilinda plied him with a number of 
questions regarding his travels, and while the two talked, 
Rosalind and Millie became the most attentive listeners. 
And while he described the many discomforts one be- 
comes heir to, especially after leaving Europe, his narra- 
tion was fraught with deepest interest. “The filth and 
degradation of the poorer classes of Italy are nothing to 
be compared with what one comes in contact in some 
parts of Asia,” he commented, then went on to tell of 
the ignorance and superstition of the Arabs and their 
thieving propensities. The quick intellect of the old lady 
readily grasped the ideas conveyed by Gerald’s versatile 
descriptions, and, so much was the interest that she 
evinced, he continued talking to her much longer than he 
had calculated when he had casually mentioned the sub- 
ject of his travels. However, his patience did not fiag. 


80 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


nor did he lose sight of the fact that his auditors were 
ladies. 

Thus, more than an hour passed pleasantly by, at the 
end of which time Millie rose to go, saying, ‘‘I wish we 
could stay longer, but I really cannot; I left a school girl 
friend at home, who no doubt thinks bad of me for leav- 
ing her so long. You see. Miss Yilinda, Gerry and I 
are playing truant to-day, for I did so much want to see 
your niece, and then you know it is so nice to have my 
big brother escort me, and that is why I did not care for 
a third party. But I cannot go until I exact a promise 
of you, which is that Kosalind may go with Gerry and I 
fishing to-morrow. We will come by for her, and remain 
at the pond all day. Grandmamma will send our luncheon 
to us, and we will just have a lovely time.” 

Miss Morton could no more resist complying with Mil- 
lie’s wishes than she could have accomplished any other 
impossible thing, hence she answered that she had no 
objection to Kosalind making one of the fishing party. 
So it was agreed upon that the three would go to the large 
fish pond belonging to the premises of Judge Underwood, 
on the following morning. Whereupon, the brother and 
sister commenced to take their leave. 

“I hope that you will come over often to visit Kosa- 
lind,” said the mistress of Morton Place, hospitably. 

“Oh! I am going to make you all tired of me directly, 
as I expect to be always on hand, and I fear I will prove 
one too many for you! ” exclaimed Millie, merrily. 

“In that case — according to our nursery rhymes — Miss 
Yilinda will have to do like the old woman did who 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


81 


lived in a shoe, and I really believe an experience of 
this kind would act like a charm upon Millie, whom I am 
inclined to think never had a whipping in her life, or was 
ever sent off to bed before it suited her ladyship’s pleas- 
ure,” said Gerald, smiling affectionately upon his sister, 
who immediately retorted: “I should not mind the 
whipping so much as being sent to bed without my sup- 
per ! ” 

“But, doesn’t it say, ‘She gave them some broth with- 
out any bread, then whipped them all soundly and put 
them to bed?’ ” asked Gerald, in a conciliatory tone, 
then added, “So', after all, they were not quite supper- 
less.” 

“Well, that wouldn’t be so bad if the broth was such 
as that of which we have just partaken,” said Millie, mis- 
chievously. At this moment their attention was attracted 
by Polly, who, for some time, had been moving about in 
a most impatient manner, as if anxious for the depart- 
ure of the visitors; and now, unable to keep quiet any 
longer, she shrieked out, “Go to bed, Rosa; it’s your 
bed time, Rosa, my pretty red Rosa!” At this unlooked, 
for interlocution, Millie fairly screamed with merriment, 
and Gerald, too, was greatly amused. But the bird sud- 
denly changed her song into the wildest peals of hysteri- 
cal laughter, that neither Miss Yilinda’s entreaties or 
demands could silence, amid which the visitors took their 
leave, Rosalind accompanying them a short distance. 

“Don’t forget to be ready for us to-morrow,” Millie 
called back, after they had separated; and Rosalind re- 
sponded that she “would not forget.” 


82 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Thus it was that the afternoon, which had been so de- 
lightful to Kosalind, by proving such a break in the 
monotony of her life, ended. It was bright and early on 
the following morning , and long before any of the rest of 
the family were up, when Gerald and Millie — preparatory 
to their day’s outing — breakfasted all to themselves in 
the spacious diningroom of Ivy Crown. A little later 
on they were wending their way through the green mead- 
ows, still laden with sparkling dew drops glistening in 
the morning sunlight. 

They found Rosalind already equipped for her walk, 
and as they started from Morton Place, Peter came up in 
the rear bearing a hamper containing the luncheon which 
Miss Morton had so carefully prepared, and a number of 
fishing poles. And while the little birds flitted here and 
there, chanting their morning lay and brushing away the 
dew drops with their bright wings, the two girls chatted 
in real schoolgirl fashion, and seemed as happy and as 
free of care as the bright little feathered songsters. It 
was not long before they emerged from the wood they 
had been traversing, and passed into a deep meadow, at 
the foot of which lay the fish pond. Upon reaching this, 
however, they found the sun much too bright to fish, so 
they sought out a shady nook and seated themselves, 
to wait for the few fleeting clouds to concentrate and 
bring about a welcome shade. And while the girls sat 
down, side by side, Gerald — removed a sufficient distance 
to smoke his morning cigar — took the opportunity of 
studying the faces of the two, and drawing a contrast 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


83 


between them, which was a most striking one, indeed. 
About Rosalind’s, there was a pronounced personality; 
and he was obliged to admit that this girl, with clear 
cut, intellectual features, proud firm mouth, and the sub- 
lime calm of expression, which shone dreamily from the 
violet eyes, was a new phase of character, and one that 
he could not easily comprehend. She was so womanly, 
and yet so independent and far removed from the mod- 
ern girl, of whom his sister was a fair type. 

Millie so enthusiastically talkative and vivacious, 
whose moods came and went like sunshine and clouds 
on an April day, while, on the other hand, Rosalind’s 
mood seemed to never vary. At last the shadow ap- 
peared, and they immediately set about getting lines 
in order for their morning’s sport. At this juncture 
Fred, accompanied by black Jim, who came to bring the 
luncheon basket and a tin can filled with fishing worms, 
appeared on the scene, and busied himself by giving di- 
rections as to the best position for a cast; then, taking 
their lines, he commenced adjusting the bait, which Jim 
produced from the can. 

Upon sight of the worms Millie gave a little scream 
and fied some distance, crying out, “Oh, Fred, please 
don’t put one of those hideous worms on my hook. I am 
so awfully afraid of them.” 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself to pretend to be 
afraid of a common fishing worm, and you a country 
girl too; I would just like to know what you would do if 
you should happen to see a snake,” said Fred, in a tone 
expressive of total disgust. 


84 


ROSALIND MORTON, 


“I think you had better take a drop on yourself,” re- 
torted Millie, forgetting her promise to Gerald' concern- 
ing the usage of slang. 

“I wish you would help me to bait these hooks, Ger- 
ry,” said Fred, coming forward with his hands full of the 
squirming little creatures. But his brother had just gone 
to have the lunch baskets removed to a shady spot, and 
did not hear the request. 

“Let me assist you,” said Kosalind, at the same time 
taking from the boy’s hand one of the largest of the fish- 
ing worms and attaching it to the hook. 

“Jee-ruu-sa-lam!” vociferated Jim, upon seeing Rosa- 
lind take the worm into her white hand without a tremor. 

“Bravo! bravo!” cried Fred, “that’s what I call Ken- 
tucky pluck, and I would like to know why Millie can’t 
do that way, too; but no, she has to put on airs, and get 
scared to death if she sees a grasshopper; I declare it is 
enough to disgust any man to see such foolishness.” 

They all laughed at this oldish remark from the boy, 
and then became very intent in watching Rosalind bait- 
ing the hooks. 

Gerald had returned to the group in time to witness the 
superior skill with which Rosalind handled the bait, and 
turning to her he said, “Allow me to compliment you. 
Miss Morton, on your steadiness of nerve, and permit me 
to add also that this is the first time I ever saw a lady un- 
dertake such a task.” 

“Thank you,” Rosalind replied, while a brighter hue 
crept into her cheeks. “I have been accustomed to fish- 
ing all my life, and have unearthed these harmless little 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


85 


creatures many a time when papa and 1 were getting 
ready for a day’s outing.” 

She spoke in the same honest, straightforward manner 
that characterized her speech upon all occasions, and 
sufficed to impress every one with its genuineness. 

Upon hearing this Millie appeared greatly elated, and, 
clapping her hands, assured Rosalind that she was a 
daisy, but receiving a look from Gerald, which warned 
her of the fact that she had said something displeasing to 
him, she sought about in her usual childish way to cor- 
rect herself. “I meant to say you were a brick,” she 
corrected, looking at Gerald for an approving smile. But 
this had proven too much for the brother, who, no longer 
able to retain his gravity, had given way to a hearty 
laugh, in which Rosalind and Fred had both joined, while 
Jim, too, had spread his mouth in a broad grin. 

‘‘1 can’t see for the life of me what you all are laugh- 
ing at,” said Millie, poutingly. 

“I fear my little sister has forgotten the promise she 
made me a few days ago in regard to using slang,” ex- 
plained Gerald, kindly, ‘‘and it was by correcting your first 
speech you used a much more slangy phrase that caused 
our amusement,” he added, seeing that Millie continued 
to sulk. 

“Well, what else could I have said to express myself 
so well?” she asked, rather sharply. 

“You could have said Miss Morton was quite brave, or 
something to that effect,” replied the brother, still look- 
ing amused. 

“But I can never stop to place my words in such proper 


86 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


style, and it does come so handy to have these expressions 
always ready.” 

“Well, never mind, I am sure I appreciate the compli- 
ment, for it sounded very sincere indeed!” said Rosalind, 
conciliatorily. 

Then a comparative silence fell upon the little com- 
pany, while each became intent on their present employ- 
ment. 

Gerald sat between Rosalind and his sister, and did not 
fail to see with what skillfulness the former handled her 
rod, throwing her line out as far as it would reach into 
the water, while at the end of each cast she would let her 
bait hang for some time in the current; thus she drew out 
minnow after minnow until at least two dozen had been 
caught and successfully landed upon the shore, during 
which time Millie or Gerald neither had captured half the 
number. 

Fred, who was a little way removed from the trio, 
ceased to angle, and sat silent, intently watching Rosa- 
lind; she was so different from other young ladies of his 
sister’s acquaintance and association that she was a wonder 
to him, and his boyish fancy indulged in imagining her a 
great fairy, or queen in disguise; but could his cogita- 
tions have been put into words, he would have, no doubt, 
ended up by saying, “She’s a regular lulu! and there’s 
no mistake — worth a whole car load of Hettys and her 
chums, and I wouldn’t care if she was my sister.” 

And so the hours flew by on golden wings, until the 
sun had climbed to the meridian; and then they set about 
arranging for their noonday repast, which was, according 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


87 


to picnic fashion, to be served upon the ground. The 
two girls flitted about as busy as bees preparing for it, 
and soon their rural table was laid with the greatest care, 
while here and there, by way of embellishment, were 
placed little bunches of violets, and other wild flowers, 
that grew in luxuriance about the margin of the water. 
At this Fred strongly protested, for, boy-like, his appe- 
tite had considerably sharpened with his morning sport. 
“That’s what I call downright foolishness, when a fellow 
is as hungry as a wolf, ” he clamored, while these arrange- 
ments were going on; then, turning to his brother, he 
called out, “Isay, Gerry, can’t you hurry up things a 
little?” One could not wonder at the boy’s eagerness 
to lunch, upon surveying the tempting little eatables 
spread out before them. There was such a variety of 
viands that compose a good luncheon, consisting of nicely 
boiled ham, cold tongue, with such delicious salads; 
also tarts, cake, and pickle, and other little delicacies too 
numerous to mention; and, added to these, a couple of 
bottles of claret, one of each Grandmother Underwood 
and Aunt Yilinda had thoughtfully added. 

At last they had everything placed about in a satisfac- 
tory manner, and to Fred’s inflnite relief, dinner was 
announced, and the agreeable little party sat themselves 
down to the enjoyment of their rural feast. Millie’s ill- 
humor of the morning had entirely vanished, and she be- 
came more and more talkative as the day advanced. 
Kosalind, too, seemed to have caught the spirit of con- 
verse, and freely discussed whatever topic was intro- 
duced. And Gerald, as if by contagion, also joined in 


88 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


their lively chat, with more interest than he was wont to 
manifest: greatly amusing them by relating little inci- 
dents of his travels in foreign lands. About the time 
their meal had begun, Uncle Peter, who had absented 
himself for some time, suddenly appeared on the scene, 
bearing a large platter of fried fish, which he had taken 
home and had prepared for the party. 

After many expressions of thanks had been said, and 
Gerald had presented him with a quarter, the old darky 
bowed himself away, and the young people again took 
up their discourse, of which fish was the principal sub- 
ject, when Gerald heightened the interest of the others 
by remarking in this wise : 

“We think our lakes, rivers, and ponds abound with 
fish, but the quantity does not in the least compare with 
that of foreign countries; the Indian ocean, for instance, 
is perfectly alive with them, and the vessel in which I 
sailed cut its way through great shoals of these finny in- 
habitants.” 

This reference to his travels was inopportune for Ger- 
ald, as Millie and Fred, who never tired of hearing him 
relate of them, commenced insisting at once upon him 
giving them another sketch. 

“Tell us something about Bagdad, where Aladdin was 
given the wonderful lamp by the fairy,” vociferated Fred, 
in real boyish fashion, and Gerald, having brought about 
the subject, had to submit to their wishes with as good a 
grace as possible; Rosalind, too, expressed her solicita- 
tions by saying that she much preferred hearing one de- 
scribe those things than to read of them. 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


89 


“ I fear you will be disappointed when it comes to lis- 
tening to me, as my sister and brother greatly overrate 
my qualities of speech, or rather make me out presumedly 
a good story teller.” 

However, the brother and sister were not wrong in 
thinking such was the case, as was soon revealed by the 
interested attention of his hearers. 

Bagdad, that old city of the far East, so renowned in 
fable, romance, and history, was brought forcibly to their 
mind’s eye by the vivid picture Gerald drew of it, not 
omitting anything, but making the narration throughout 
full and replete with interest. The women of the Orient, 
their dress, manners, and, moreover, subordinate posi- 
tions; how they were never permitted to go out unveiled, 
and how those of the wealthier class were always attended 
by a bodyguard of servants. He then related how the 
once large population of Bagdad had decreased, and now 
only amounted to about sixty thousand; out of these, 
twelve thousand were Jews, forty-five thousand followers 
of the Mohammedan religion, there being only about 
three thousand Christians. Then in his versatile manner 
he went on to describe the large caravans that almost 
daily could be seen bearing the merchandise from all parts 
of Europe; the patience and placidness of the camels as 
they toiled through the scorching heat of the sun, only 
resting long enough to feed upon a scanty shrub, said to 
be as bitter as the “apples of Sodom,” then driven to the 
river to drink, after which they were put in the stable for 
a night, only to again begin their toilsome journey the 
following day. Other historical places were briefiy de- 


90 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


scribed, among the rest Babylon, that mysterious, silent 
city, which for four thousand years has slumbered. In 
regard to it he said, “Babylon is most truly a dead and 
buried city, with nothing to mark its resting place but the 
hill upon which it sat, and the relics of antiquity that the 
Arabs and treasure seekers from other lands are constantly 
extricating from its ruins.” 

And thus it was, while lingering under the influence of 
his charming voice, the auditors of Gerald were carried 
away from themselves by these graphic details relating to 
the land of the Orient. Especially did Kosalind forget 
everything else, while she sat spellbound listening as in- 
tently as she had done upon hearing her father describe 
his own experience while in heathen lands. No one else 
had ever so interested her since, and she felt as if she 
could listen to his soft flowing tones forever. Fishing in 
the afternoon became impossible, as the sun continued to 
shine so brilliantly — not a shadow having crossed its 
bright disk — hence the remainder of the day was spent 
in the manner just described, with no sound to break the 
stillness save that of Gerald’s rich voice, as it rose and 
fell on the zephyr- like breeze.- How peacefully happy had 
that day been to Kosalind, and how often in the future — 
when new sorrows that almost quenched her young life 
had come — did she recall this scene; the pond with its 
many depths, where shadowy forms of the little fish left 
long streaks of sunlight upon its surface as they scudded 
through the water; the eager faces of Fred and Millie, 
while listening to their brother’s rehearsal of the many 
strange lands, and strange people that inhabited them. 


MILLIE AND ROSALIND. 


91 


So the afternoon glided quickly away, and it was with 
much regret that they saw “Old Sol” disappear behind 
the forest hills, warning them that their day’s pleasure 
had ended; and as the twilight deepened, and the fire- 
flies drifted amongst the wild flowers, and an early moon 
rose and hung over the water like a shield of gold, the 
little party moved slowly and reluctantly towards their 
homes, separating at Mi^s Morton’s gate — Rosalind to 
spend the remainder of the evening thinking and dream- 
ing over the delightful day just passed, and Millie to re- 
turn to her beautiful home and detail to her guest the 
day’s happenings and descant upon the many charms of 
her new friend, Rosalind Morton. 


CHAPTER YII. 


ENTRE NOUS. 

JT was almost eight o’clock when Millie and Gerald 

reached Ivy Crown, and as dinner was usually served at 
that hour, they made their way at once to their own apart- 
ments to prepare for meeting their guest in the dining- 
room. And right here it may be added that since Hetty 
had grown up and become a fashionable society leader, 
the good old time noontide dinner had given place to 
luncheon, while dinner had taken the place of the old- 
fashioned supper. 

This arrangement had not been altogether agreeable to 
Grandmother Underwood, or the Judge, both of whom 
rather preferred the primitive mode of serving meals; but 
in this, as in everything else, the dominant will of the 
eldest daughter had asserted itself, consequently over- 
ruling the objection of the rest of the family. 

Both the Judge and his mother were indulgent to the 
young people, and never happier than when engaged in 
doing something that would add to their comfort and 
pleasure. 

The old lady, therefore, spent much of her time in 
the kitchen and pantry superintending the servants and 
devising some rare dish for the dinner, or dealing out 
sundry pickles, preserves and cold meats for luncheon, 
and it was through her efficient housewifery and unex- 

92 


ENTRE NOUS. 


93 


ceptionable hospitality that the lovely old homestead was 
rendered doubly attractive to its many visitors, who came 
and went throughout the entire summer season. 

And while Hetty and her lady guest lounged away the 
hours en deshabille, the grandmother attended to these 
duties, thus royally entertaining her family and friends. 

Upon this evening, when Millie and Gerald entered 
the diningroom, they found her as usual sitting at the 
head of the table, dispersing her genial smiles and sump- 
tuous hospitality around her, appearing truly, a ‘Gady 
bountiful” in every sense of the word. 

Fred having reached home an hour or so earlier, had 
not failed to have a famous fish fry added to the nu- 
merous other savory dishes. Nettie and Nellie imme- 
diately plied them with questions concerning their day’s 
sport, whereupon Millie, in her graphic and enthusiastic 
style, described the day’s doings, not omitting an account 
of Rosalind’s bravery in handling the fish worms. 

All were interested in Millie’s talk, especially Mrs. 
Porter, who, though not appearing to listen, had not lost 
a word of what she had said about Rosalind Morton. 
‘‘She is just the loveliest girl I ever saw, with such pretty 
blue eyes, that seem to have a light shining in their 
depths which I never saw in any one’s eyes before; and, 
since I come to think of it, I suppose it is what the poets 
call ‘soul illumined.’ ” This expression from Millie 
caused a smile all round, Gerald remarking in the mean- 
while that he had no idea she was so sentimental. 

“lam real jealous of that girl,” chimed in Nettie, 
“and am sure I shall not like her the least bit, since 
Millie is so' crazy about her.” 


94 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“You ought to have gone with us and seen her for 
yourself; I guess you’d got as bad stuck on her as we 
are,” said Fred, who had up to this time remained silent. 

“So I ought, but I am so afraid of the fish that 1 am 
sure I would have been miserable all day: but you are 
mistaken, Fred, in supposing, for a moment, that I would 
have gotten stuck on her, for no matter how pretty she 
is I could never like her if she is to come between Millie 
and myself, as it seems that she is doing.” 

Millie hastened to facilitate matters by assuring Nettie 
of her everlasting devotion, and, as the dinner had now 
ended ^ placed her arm around her friend and asked her to 
walk into the grounds. 

After this they all in like manner trooped out of the 
diningroom, with the exception of Fred and his grand- 
mother. The old lady had asked him to remain, as she 
wished to speak to him, and when they were quite alone 
she said : 

“ Will you tell me, my boy, why it is you make use of 
such ugly expressions as you did to Nettie while at the 
table?” 

But Fred could not for the life of him remember as to 
what his grandmother had reference, and, looking some- 
what confused, he asked, “What did I say, granny? I 
am sure I don’t recollect.” 

“Well, Freddy, it was this, and it was not the first 
time that I have heard you use the expression, but I do 
hope 1 will not hear it again. If your father had been at 
the table he would no doubt have sent you away or 
punished you otherwise, but, as he was not present, I feel 
it a duty to speak to you myself.” 


ENTRE NOUS. 


95 


Here Fred grew impatient, and interrupted her by 
saying, “Well, what is it. Granny? I don’t see any use 
of keeping a fellow waiting all night.” 

A delicate flush rose to the old lady’s face when she re- 
plied, “It was the slang phrase (stuck on her) which you 
used, and in connection with the name of the young lady, 
too ; where did you learn such language?” 

Upon hearing this Fred broke out into a peal of merry 
laughter, and said, “Why, Granny, there’s nothing short 
about that word ; all the swells I met last winter in Flor- 
ida and New Orleans made use of it. Of course it is 
slang, but it is fashionable slang. Granny!” 

“No matter, Freddie, how fashionable it is, I do not 
want my boy to polute his lips by using it, for I tell you, 
dear boy, it is a very bad habit, and, no matter how fash- 
ionable, it is disgusting to people of good taste and re- 
finement, and I therefore hope you will try to refrain 
from making use of such language again, especially when 
in the presence of ladies.” 

Fred appeared heartily ashamed, and said, repentantly, 
“I will do my best to break myself of it Granny, if you 
will forgive me this time.” 

“Certainly, Freddy, you are already forgiven,” an- 
swered the fond old grandmother, kissing him affection- 
ately. 

When Gerald passed out of the diningroom on that 
evening it was with the intention of at once going to his 
own room for the purpose of writing some letters, but in 
the hall- way, just where the soft rays of moonlight were 
blending with the lamp light, Mrs. Porter was standing, 


96 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


lingeringly. He spoke to her pleasantly, and would have 
passed on had she not stopped him by saying : 

“Excuse me, Mr. Underwood, for interrupting you, 
but I wanted to inquire if your father is expected home 
to-night?” 

This question was put in the most sang froid manner 
that one could possibly assume, but under this calm ex- 
terior there was a trembling of doubt and fear, hope and 
expectancy. How would he treat her? Would he ever 
allow himself to listen to her dulcet tones again, and be- 
lieve the pretty little story she had to tell him in extenu- 
ation of her falsity? Would she ever again be capable of 
making him care for her? Almost breathlessly she waited 
for his answer to her question, which was only a method 
she had employed by way of drawing him into conversa- 
tion with her, and, though his face did not change in ex- 
pression, and his voice was pleasant when he replied to 
her, she felt intuitively that he understood her motive in 
making this inquiry concerning his father’s return, which 
was only a prelude to the making-up of their former ac- 
quaintance. 

However it might be, the woman had sufficient tact to 
continue her role, so she heard Gerald’s reply apparently 
unmoved, “ Father went to Lexington this morning, in- 
tending to return this evening, and, as the train is about 
due at Livingston, will possibly be home in a short time.” 

Then, with the true courtesy of a Southern gentleman, 
he remembered that the lady was a visitor at his father’s 
house, and it was his duty to show her kind attention. 

“Will you come in the parlor and wait until father 
comes?” he asked, politely, offering his arm. 


ENTRE NOUS. 


97 


“ I believe I will wait, as 1 wish to consult the Judge 
on a matter of business,” she replied, then hesitatingly 
added, “If you would not mind escorting me, I should 
prefer going into the grounds; it is so close in doors, and 
the night is so beautiful!” 

“Certainly not, madame, I shall be pleased to escort 
you about the grounds, since you wish it.” And to any 
one not well versed in intonation of sound his voice would 
have indicated nothing . more than an ordinary acquies- 
cence to her request; otherwise there was a disinclination 
expressed on his part, while at the same time he oiffered 
to serve her. 

But if the widow read this in his tone, she appeared 
perfectly unconscious of it, and went on talking in the 
most gracious manner, praising the beauty of the grounds, 
the attractiveness of the plan in which they were laid off, 
the statuary and fountains; all were of the most exquisite 
designs, and in her varied travels she had never seen any 
place half so beautiful as Ivy Crown. 

Gerald listened with apparent interest to all her flatter- 
ing comments, thanking her for her pretty compliments, 
and replying respectfully to all her questions, but not one 
feeling or emotion of what he had felt for her eight years 
prior to this interview was awakened within him. No, 
there was no rekindling of the old flame, not a spark re- 
mained, and to him the past was as dead as a past could 
be. His father's family had never known of this romance 
of his more youthful days, for their acquaintance had 
sprung up while he was attending college at Frankfort, 
and had ripened and matured into a betrothal. 


7 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Thus the two had parted, when Gerald went to Ger- 
many to complete his education — he with high hopes and 
expectations for the future, and she with her vows of 
constancy scarcely cold on her lips, ready to accept the 
first propitious offer of marriage, which proved to be that 
of Senator Porter. 

And so it had all ended between them; hence it was 
with more disgust than anything else that he found this 
bona fide affair of his inexperienced boyhood brought 
face to face with him, by the original subject of it having 
presented herself at his home ostensibly as his sister’s 
guest, but at the same time being perfectly aware of his 
presence there — wearing, too, the interesting garb of 
what is termed “widow’s weeds,” and evidently expect- 
ing to reignite his former passion and resurrect the past. 
“]^o doubt,” he thinks, scornfully, “she has within her 
own mind pictured out how, upon meeting her again, I 
would fall upon my knees and plead with her to fulfill 
the vows of her maidenhood, and after much hesitation 
on her part she would at last blushingly consent, and 
thus after a rehearsal of all the silly things I had said and 
done at the time I lived in a fool’s paradise, our marriage 
would be consummated, which would be the sequel of 
our youthful romance.” A smile of derision curled his 
handsome lips as these thoughts crossed his mind, and he 
could hardly refrain from giving expression to them 
aloud, and adding that she would be as much the victim 
of imagination as the milkmaid (of whom he had read in 
the blue-back spelling book of his juvenile days) if she 
had supposed him to be the same devoted lover as of 


ENTRE NOUS. 


99 


eight years ago. But he was a gentleman, and came of 
a gallant and courtly race; hence, he crushed back these 
unuttered sentiments, and endeavored to appear interested 
in all she was saying. Again he recalled the fact that 
Mrs. Porter was an invited guest at his father’s house, 
and happily none of the family knew her at that time, 
or of the heart struggle through which he passed at the 
hands of the woman, over whom he now knew himself 
to be the victor. So completely had he conquered his 
former feelings towards her, and so beneficial had been 
the lesson she had given him of the duplicity of which 
her sex could be capable, that he felt that he should feel 
grateful, rather than resentful, towards her. It hardly 
seemed possible for any one to so change in their re- 
gard towards another, and until this test had been put be- 
fore him he was not cognizant of how complete had been 
the change. The lightest touch of her hand had once 
had the most magical effect, and her soft tones had 
thrilled him, and caused every fibre of his being to pulsate 
with the most passionate emotions. 

But how different now; for had that soft, white hand, 
resting so confidently upon his arm, belonged to one of 
the Greek goddesses of the marble statuary around them, 
it could not have produced a chillier effect. 

After having exhausted her words in extravagant praises 
of the house, grounds, statuary and fountains, Mrs. Porter 
became silent for a few moments, then reopened the con- 
versation by saying : ‘-You do not know how much I 
have desired to see you again, for 1 have something that 
I wish to say to you — some explanations to make — which 
I have never had the opportunity of making since.” 


100 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


But before she could proceed further, Gerald stopped 
her by saying pleasantly, but firmly, ‘‘Pardon me, Mrs. 
Porter, for interrupting you, but I do not deem explana- 
tions concerning what may have occurred during our for- 
mer acquaintance necessary. The past is dead and buried. 
Then why wish to disinter it? ” 

“But, Ger” — Mr. Underwood, she corrected — “it is 
not always best to let misunderstandings and hard feelings 
remain, when a few words would suffice to throw a differ- 
ent light on the subject altogether. So please listen to 
me while I tell you.” 

There was a tone of entreaty in the soft voice, and the 
eyes looking into his wore an expression of intense sad- 
ness while appealing to him in this wise. However, her 
words did not have the desired effect, for the stern set 
mouth, and calm expression of the eyes, showed Gerald 
Underwood to be unmoved in his determination that he 
would not listen to extenuations or remonstrances on her 
part, with a view of bringing about a reconciliation, or, 
rather, renewal of former relations. Moreover, his words, 
as well as his expression of countenance, warned her of 
the uselessness of her task, when, in a calm, even tone, 
he said : 

“You are mistaken, madam, by thinking for a moment 
that I entertain for you unkind feelings regarding the 
past, or in any way have misunderstood your motives. 
In securing your present well being, you certainly acted 
wisely, and I have to congratulate you upon exercising 
so much common sense. And now we will drop this sub- 
ject altogether, and never uproot it again, as it belongs 


ENTRE NOUS. 


101 


entirely to the past, and has been so nearly obliterated 
from my memory that it only seems a vague dream.” 

They were walking slowly down the avenue of Junipers 
that led in the direction of the fountain and grotto, sit- 
uated in a remote part of the grounds, and when he had 
finished speaking they had stopped amongst the classic- 
ally arranged statuary that stood like ghostly sentinels 
around the fountain, as if holding guard over this lovely 
and sequestered spot. Mrs. Porter did not reply; for 
once in her life she felt herself outwitted, and Gerald, 
by way of calling her attention to the works of splendid 
art by which they were surrounded, said : 

‘ ‘ These symbols of antiquity are some of my importa- 
tions from the Orient; this in particular I prize greatly 
from the fact of having had it patterned from the original 
one excavated from the ruins of Babylon,” indicating a 
dancing faun of much beauty, “and this is another fac- 
simile of Eastern antiquity,” he continued, coming close 
to the three hideous faces of the furies, which appeared 
more grotesque than ever, when compared with the sym- 
metry of the faun. 

A slight but perceptive shiver passed over the beauti- 
ful woman when these faces, so symbolical of all the evil 
passions, grouped together and separated by serpents that 
were wound around the head of each and tied in knots 
below their horrible angular chins, confronted her. And 
no wonder she shuddered while viewing these sculptured 
monstrosities of ugliness, for nothing could have appeared 
more unpleasant to the eye than did that masterpiece of 
workmanship, with the shifting rays of moonlight falling 
upon it. 


102 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“I see you do not admire my furies,” said Gerald, 
with a light laugh, ‘‘so I will show you my Psyche and 
Cupid,” leading her nearer the fountain where these two 
heathen divinities were represented as rising from the 
water. And here, too, was a deviation from the original 
beauty of the mythical god and goddess, for while the 
head and shoulders were that of Psyche, the body was 
that of a huge reptile, coiled around the little blind god, 
from whom he appeared trying vainly to escape. Mrs. 
Porter attempted a little laugh, after studying the peculiar 
design, and said : 

“Your idea of mythology seems to have been greatly 
exaggerated upon having this reproduced. What a queer 
design, and what could have ever suggested it?” she 
asked, sarcastically. 

' ‘ It was fashioned after my own model, and came over 
the sea with me,” he replied, in the same calm, indiffer- 
ent tone. 

He did not appear to have noticed the touch of sar- 
casm in her speech; at the same time becoming more 
pointed and satirical in his own remarks. 

“There is no doubt but they are all fine works of art, 
but I must admit to the fact that I have never felt 
much interest in heathen deities, not having sufficient im- 
agination to idealize them; therefore, I had much rather 
hear a description of some of your practical experiences 
while abroad than to see all the statuary in the world; 
and, according to Millie’s statement, it seems that you 
were kind enough to entertain the fishing party with 
graphic accounts of the life and habits of the Orient. I 
crave the same boon.” 


ENTRE NOUS. 


103 


“I should like to grant you this, Mrs. Porter, and will 
at some future time; but you will have to excuse me this 
evening, as I am under promise to write some letters for 
father, which should have been written to-day.” 

They had turned from the fountain, and were then re- 
tracing their steps up the broad walk that was overshad- 
owed by dense boughs of evergreens, which swayed 
gently to the music of the evening breeze, seeming to 
whisper of lovers’ vows softly spoken upon just such 
moonlit, harmonious nights, when all nature was attuned 
to poetry and romance. 

But if the beautiful widow had expected these scenes to 
inspire within the heart of her old lover an echo of the 
past, she was doomed to the most bitter disappointment, 
for still his tone and manner betokened the most perfect 
indifference, and his face also expressed the same to the 
uttermost degree. 

And tho’ the future held out many possibilities to her, 
she was convinced more than ever of the uselessness of at- 
tempting at present to re-ignite the old flame. She was 
thinking thus, and trying to decide on some plan for the 
future, when something occurred to change the current of 
her thoughts and fill her mind with the most abject ter- 
ror, for suddenly the face and form of an object pre- 
sented itself to view, spectral and weird in appearance, 
as seen in the uncertain and shifting moonbeams, yet 
nevertheless fearfully uncanny to the beholder, for tran- 
sient and sudden as it had dawned upon her vision, its 
image did not fail to leave upon her memory a horrible 
impress; and for weeks afterwards she could recall, with a 


104 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


sickening shudder, the haggard face, deep-set eyes, and 
claw-like hands that were reached defiantly out towards her, 
altogether making a picture not easily erased; and tho’ it 
was hard to decide within her own mind whether she had 
really seen this object or her imagination had played 
her false, it was however sufficiently distinct to have the 
effect of throwing her into a fainting fit, thus making it 
necessary for Gerald to bear her in his arms up the stairs 
to Henrietta’s room, where, after laying her on a couch, 
he left her and went in search of his sister, whom he for- 
tunately met in the hallway, and in this wise explained 
the situation; 

“I was just going in search of you, Hettie, to ask you 
to go to Mrs. Porter, who is in your room in a dead 
swoon, which was brought on by a little fright she sus- 
tained while in the grounds.” 

Then stepping nearer, he added something sotto voce. 
Whatever that something was, it caused Henrietta’s face 
to turn several shades paler and an inarticulate sound to 
escape her lips; then she hastened her steps in the direc- 
tion of her room. 

She was just in the act of entering, when she was again 
accosted by Gerald, who said briefly, “Do not let any 
one else hear of this; neither is it necessary to let her 
Snow that you are aware of what has occurred this even- 
ing, ” nodding in the direction of the fainting woman. He 
then strode hurriedly out, going in the direction of where 
the mysterious visitant had made its appearance. 


CHAPTER YIII. 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN 

Your eyes are stars of morningf ; 

Your lips are crimson flowers.” 

T hree days after the fishing excursion, Miss Morton, 
senior, and her niece received a cordial invitation 
from Ivy Crown, asking them to spend the day. But 
other duties calling the grand aunt at home on that day 
made it necessary for Rosalind to go alone. 

Upon arriving at the hospitable mansion, Millie was 
the first to greet her, who ran out to the carriage, and, 
kissing her affectionately, exclaimed : 

‘‘So you have come at last, have you ? Gerald and my- 
self have been on the lookout for you for the last hour,” 
she added, as she led her up the steps. 

At this Rosalind’s cheeks suffused with blushes, for she 
had already perceived Gerald only a few feet away, and 
felt sure that he had heard Millie’s words. However, 
he did not seem in the least abashed, and continued to 
advance towards the two. Holding out his hand in a 
kindly greeting, he said : 

“Allow me, also, to welcome you to Ivy Crown! ” 
And while her little hand fluttered into the firm, white 
palm, his eyes looked into hers, meeting the clear bright 
orbs with a glance of undoubted admiration — for none 
could have looked into that pure, guileless face, without 

105 


106 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


admiring it. And so it was with Gerald Underwood; 
though he had lost faith in woman, and ceased to worship 
at beauty’s shrine, still it was a pleasure to him to know 
this high-souled, lovely girl, whom the world had not yet 
spoiled, and in whom he had, in spite of himself, become 
more interested than he would have been willing to admit. 

From a recess of a bay window in the library, and 
screened by some potted plants, Mrs. Porter had watched 
the meeting between the trio, and jealously noted the 
kindly and genial manner in which Gerald welcomed the 
pretty girl to his home. She had seen more, too, as 
Gerald’s glance had not escaped her, or had Rosalind’s 
rosy blushes. Laura Porter was a woman keenly observ- 
ant to things in general, but when anything personally 
concerned her own interest was taking place right under 
her eyes, it assumed double proportions. 

“Great heavens!” she exclaimed, under her breath, 
while her heart beat with the wildest fears, “can it be 
possible that he is interested in that chit of a girl, who 
has nothing to recommend her but her pretty face, and 
only the daughter of an impoverished minister ? What 
fools men are, to let every girl who happens to be a little 
above the average in beauty, make them believe they are 
angels. But it matters not how much she has attracted 
him by her pretended artlessness, she shall never win 
him, for I am determined never to submit to that if I 
have to bring all the powers of heaven and hades to bear 
against it — for he is mine by the first rights, and shall 
never become the husband of another woman; for, whether 
through good or evil, I will prevent it, and place a barrier 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN. 


107 


as wide as the sea between them rather than to allow him 
to belong to another.” 

None would have believed it possible for this beautiful 
woman, with such a languid air and soft, magical eyes, to 
be capable of expressing such vindictiveness of character 
as she had, while all unobserved the little by-play had 
come under her notice ; and while these thoughts were 
passing through her brain her eyes gleamed with a fierce 
light and her face grew deathly white. 

Kosalind’s lovely countenance had dawned fully upon 
her, and though she had expected to see a girl pretty — 
perhaps a little above the average — she was in no way 
prepared to behold one so striking in appearance, for 
such a face and form as this girl possessed were rarely 
seen. The broad white brow and beautiful dark-hued 
pansy eyes; the intellectual cast of features, with all their 
refined effeminacy, and, moreover, the delicate tho’ well 
developed form, the symmetrical curves of which were 
brought out to the very best advantage by the well-fitting 
attire of soft mull; truly the girl appeared the picture of 
ideal loveliness. In the meanwhile Rosalind, all una- 
ware of the scrutiny she had been undergoing, had been 
escorted by the brother and sister to the front parlor, and 
given a seat by one of the long French windows where 
she could view the ethereal beauty of the magnificent 
grounds. And while she sat there feasting her eyes on 
all the luxuriant verdure and bloom that environed her, a 
new sense of joy came into her heart; a thankfulness of 
spirit, to which she had been a stranger for many months, 
took possession of her, bringing with it a feeling of bliss- 
full content. 


108 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“After all, what a beautiful world is this!” she men- 
tally enunciated, as she gazed about her, bewildered by 
the scene that arose before her. When she had last 
looked upon Ivy Crown winter had robbed it of all its 
bloom; what must it have appeared to her at the season 
when the grounds were a blaze of roses, scarlet and pink 
geraniums, and luxuriant jessamine and honeysuckle? 
Then, too, all the landscape around was bare of its ver- 
dure; now it was at its brightest and freshest. The 
densely foliaged forest, the wide meadows, showing their 
luminous tints in the radiant sunshine, were all grand be- 
yond expression. Rosalind saw all this with emotions of 
exquisite delight, and while her eyes wandered amongst 
these enticing beauties, involuntarily they rested upon the 
little rustic arbor in which she had sat down to rest upon 
her first visit to Ivy Crown, when the horrible creature 
had appeared before her, causing her such a terrible 
fright. Again she shuddered while recalling it, and 
turned from the window to find herself alone. 

Millie had left her to go in search of Nellie and Nettie 
for the purpose of introducing them, and during this time 
her thoughts had roved back over the past few months. 

However, she was not left long to recount the brief 
but seemingly interminable interview she had held with 
the mysterious creature, for at about this time Gerald’s 
pleasant voice brought her back to the agreeable present. 

“How is it that I find you quite alone. Miss Morton? 
One would have thought that Millie would not have 
left you for a moment, judging from the persistent watch 
she has been keeping for the last two hours.” 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN. 


109 


Rosalind’s countenance lighted up immediately, and she 
answered, cheerfully, assuring him that Millie had only 
left her for a few moments to look up the other young 
ladies. “She is anxious that I should meet Miss Rhea, 
and I am equally as eager to make her acquaintance,” 
she added, smilingly. 

“In that case she is liable to be absent for some time — 
that is, if she waits for the young ladies’ toilets to be 
made; so, with your permission, I will try to entertain 
you until she again puts in an appearance.” 

“Thank you; I shall be pleased to have you talk to 
me,” she replied, simply. 

And so it happened, when, in the course of half an 
hour, Millie returned to the parlor, accompanied by Mrs. 
Porter, Nellie, and Nettie, they found the two conversing 
in an animated tone; and again a jealous pang caused the 
heart of the pretty widow to palpitate rapidly, but she 
crushed back these inner feelings behind a mask of smiles, 
and her greeting to Rosalind was by far more friendly 
than that of the others; for while Nettie and Nellie only 
bowed in acknowledgement of Millie’s introduction, this 
lady shook hands with Rosalind, and said, in the softest, 
sweetest tone, “We are all most happy to welcome you. 
Miss Morton, and trust that your visit to Ivy Crown may 
be as pleasant as ours has been.” 

“I really cannot understand how it could be possible 
for any one not to enjoy a visit here,” replied Rosalind, 
readily, at the same time looking admiringly at the pretty 
woman, not failing to note with what graceful ease she 
had sank into a chair near her side. 


110 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“No, it does not seem possible that one would ever 
weary of looking upon the beauties of this lovely home; 
however, it does not suffice to drive away the ennui from 
one of its inmates. Yes, it is true. Miss Morton,” she 
added, in reply to Rosalind’s questioning look, “that Mr. 
Gerald Underwood is suffering from a severe attack of 
that malady, and had the disease been of a contagious 
nature, it would have long since communicated itself 
to the rest of us; but since your coming seems to have 
had upon him a cheering effect, there are yet some hopes 
of his recovery.” 

Mrs. Porter’s words, though sounding natural to the 
others, had an unmistakable ring of sarcasm in them which 
Gerald alone understood, and as she thus ingeniously 
uttered them, a frown of displeasure ruffied his handsome 
brow; but, quickly bethinking himself, he hastened to 
say: 

“I think I know of something that will act as a pre- 
ventive to the infection, should there be danger of any 
of you contracting it.” 

“Well, do let us hear what it is,” cried Millie, im- 
patiently. 

“Certainly; there is a camp-meeting in progress about 
twenty miles from here, and if you all would like to go, 
we will do so.” 

“Oh! .that would be glorious,” chorused Millie, Net- 
tie, and Nellie. 

“But you should not be too hasty in your conclusions; 
you have not heard yet what kind of conveyance would 
necessarily be used for the occasion ; perhaps that would 
not be so readily approved,” said Gerald, laughing. 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN. 


Ill 


‘‘Why don’t you tell us what you are driving at and 
not tease so much? ” pouted Millie. 

“Well, 1 will — it is this: there is but one way that we 
could travel the route that leads to the camp-grounds, 
and that is in a four-horse wagon, as the roads in some 
parts are very rough, and were we to start in carriages, 
would no doubt be stalled before making half the dis- 
tance. But we can have the wagon well covered with 
hay; and to appear modern, we will call it a hay-ride.” 

“That will be delightful,” proclaimed Millie; “and 
such a novelty,” emphasized Mrs. Porter. 

“But, Gerry, what time will we start? You know the 
fashion for hay-riding is at night, and we couldn’t go and 
return twenty miles in one evening,” said Millie, anx- 
iously. 

“Of course not; we will start by daylight on the morn- 
ing we determine upon going, and reach the camp-grounds 
for the eleven o’clock service. Then we will have our 
fashionable hay-ride coming home, as it will possibly be 
after midnight when we arrive.” 

“How romantic! I. always enjoy anything where there 
is hay about; it smells so fresh and green; and I shall 
almost imagine myself Maud Muller when I am being 
tossed about in the new mown hay. Don’t you think me 
appreciative of sentiment and poetry, Gerald?” said 
Nellie, in a tone of mock gravity. 

“I suppose your version of the poet’s idealized maiden 
reaches about as near it as any one’s, at this age. Miss 
Nellie; but permit me, however, to say that you have the 
advantage over the original Maud Muller in more than 


112 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


one way — for, while you ride on the hay, she did the 
haying; and, if I rightly understand the poet, only one 
came a wooing, while, on the other hand, you have two 
suitors, who will doubtless sit on each side of you during 
your ride.” 

Upon this they all laughed, while Nellie endeavored 
to hide her blushes behind a fan of the most delicate tissue. 

“We will have to start at about four o^clock a. m. to 
reach Rocky Hill in time for the morning service; hence 
you ladies will have to forego your late morning nap,” 
explained Gerald, looking from one to the other; then, as 
if by the merest chance, his eyes rested upon Rosalind, 
and he added, “I hope. Miss Morton, that you, too, will 
find it agreeable to make one of the party of our so- 
termed hay-ride.” 

“I cannot say positively until I have spoken to Aunt 
Yilinda, though I should very much enjoy it I know,” 
Rosalind replied. 

“Why, of course you will; I will go over to see Miss 
Yilinda myself and ask her permission; and when I tell 
her that Gerry has gotten this up .in honor of her lovely 
and charming niece, I am sure she will consent,” put in 
Millie, concernedly. 

“What’s the rumpus?” inquired Fred, at this time ap- 
pearing in their midst, accompanied by the two cadets. 
However, before any one found time to reply to his 
query, he had spied out Rosalind, and exclaimed, vocif- 
erously, “Oh! here she is now; I am so glad to see you, 
Miss Rosalind. I was just telling these fellows what a 
dead swell you are at fishing, and promised to get you to 
show them how to handle a rod.” 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN. 


113 


Here the boy was interrupted by Gerald coming for- 
ward, saying: 

“You forget, my lad, that these gentlemen have never 
met Miss Morton. You should, therefore, have intro- 
duced them.” Then, turning to Rosalind, he said: 

“Miss Morton, allow me to present to you Messrs. 
Townsend and Courts.” 

The young men both cast admiring glances towards the 
new guest, then, simultaneously, as if moved by the same 
impulse, turned their eyes upon Miss Stevenson. But 
this young lady was either so sure of their undying devo- 
tion, or else too much occupied with thoughts of the com- 
ing event to have noticed their admiration; and, as soon 
as they had taken their seats, commenced to impart to 
them, in her impartial manner, the contemplated amuse- 
ment just being discussed. 

“It will be a regular lark,” declared Henry. 

“Won’t it, though!” chimed Fred. 

“Yes, just awfully jolly,” enunciated Edwin. 

Then they all laughed hilariously. 

“I was never at a camp-meeting in my life, and have 
no idea what the people do while there. Will some one 
kindly inform me?” said Nellie, looking innocently 
around her. 

“Certainly, Miss Nellie, if my meagre knowledge will 
be of any service to you, it will be most gladly given, as 
I have once or twice in my life chanced upon a camp- 
ground. In the first place, it is a series of meetings, con- 
ducted similar to all revivals of religion, where they have 
a mourners’ bench and pray and sing and shout. But, in- 


114 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


stead of making daily trips from their homes, a number 
of people build themselves comfortable little cabins, and 
move their families and such furniture as they deem in- 
dispensable. Here they take up their abode as long as 
the meeting lasts, doing their cooking over what is termed 
camp fires, with cooking utensils which can be suspended 
above them. Thus a large amount of provisions are 
cooked each day for their own use and the visiting con- 
gregation; and hundreds of strangers are entertained in 
the most kindly and hospitable manner by these campers; 
at least, this has been my personal experience with meet- 
ings of this kind. But the settlement in which I attended 
them heretofore was far different from Kocky Hill, which 
happens to be a little farther removed from civilization; 
or, in other words, it is in a locality called Coon Range, 
a backwoods part of the State, where you will see many 
strange and, I may add, outlandish styles of dress and 
headgear among the ladies — and, were you all not so well- 
bred, it might be necessary to admonish you to control 
your risibles, for when you witness fashions the most 
antiquated, and hear the drollery of speech which charac- 
terizes the natives of Coon Range, you will be greatly 
tempted to laugh.” 

Gerald, having ended his explanation to Nellie, turned 
to Rosalind, interrogating her thus: 

“Have you ever attended a camp-meeting. Miss Mor- 
ton?” 

“Oh, yes, very often; papa assisted in conducting 
such meetings, and I frequently went with him.” 

Then Millie, who was intently listening, said, “Do 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN. 


115 


tell us something about them, Rosalind. Did you really 
ever sleep on a camp ground?” 

“Yes, upon many different occasions, and found my- 
self as comfortable as one would have wished. The peo- 
ple were very kind and hospitable, tho' generally poor,” 
Rosalind replied, without volunteering further informa- 
tion. 

“Truly the poor are God’s people,” repeated Gerald, 
reverently. 

At the sound of his voice Rosalind started involun- 
tarily, while her cheeks paled and flushed rapidly, for 
something in his deep tones touched a tender chord in 
her memory, calling up in vivid colors the cherished 
past. She had heard her father so often repeat that text, 
and Gerald’s voice had sounded so like his, that it was 
all that she could do to keep back the tears. However, 
she quickly recovered her composure, tho’ it cost her an 
effort to do so, and when a few minutes later Henrietta 
entered she was smiling naturally and listening to Fred 
while he pictured the fun of their forthcoming hay-ride. 

It was then near about the noon hour — the time when 
the elder sister usually put in her flrst appearance for the 
day. It was customary for this young lady to breakfast 
in her own room in negligee, and to remain there until 
just before the bell would ring for luncheon, hence no 
one expressed any surprise at her tardiness. Millie has- 
tened to introduce Rosalind as soon as the sister came 
into their midst, and Hetty acknowledged the introduc- 
tion with a haughty bow, after which she took the trouble 
of addressing to her a few conventional remarks. Then, 


116 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


in answer to the bell, they all filed into the spacious 
diningroom to partake of the bountiful luncheon. Millie 
and Gerald both escorted Kosalind to the hospitable 
board, where she was received by the grandmother with 
a cordial hand shake. 

“I am glad to know you, Rosalind; sit here by me, 
and tell me how your aunt is getting along in health 
now,” said the old lady, motioning the visitor to a seat 
beside her, at the same time giving her an admiring 
look. And Rosalind, feeling quite at ease by the kindly 
reception, answered all of the grandmother’s questions, 
and told her what a nice garden her aunt had in prospect, 
thus directing her attention to her chiefly during the 
meal. In the meanwhile Millie introduced the subject of 
the camp-meeting, upon which all had something to say; 
hence before they left the table arrangements had been 
made with the grand-dame that a large hamper of pro- 
visions be gotten in readiness by the day after the mor- 
row, the time specified for their going; also that an early 
breakfast be prepared for them on the day appointed. 

The Judge was not at home, therefore Gerald was 
called upon to do the honors of host while luncheon was 
being served, which he accordingly accomplished with as 
much grace as if the duties were habitual to him. While 
the camp-meeting was being discussed he turned to Rosa- 
lind, saying: 

“You must not fail to go with us to Rocky Hill, as the 
view of the surrounding country will amply reward you 
for your long ride. We will pass through some of the 
most rugged and picturesque parts of the State, and the 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN. 


117 


people whom we will see on the camp grounds will also 
be perfect curiosities.” 

“And the place of which you speak is in Kentucky; 
how is it possible when every one calls this God’s coun- 
try?” said Kellie, who had overheard Gerald’s remarks. 

“It is nevertheless God’s country, though perhaps not 
so highly favored as this part,” replied Gerald, pleas- 
antly. Henrietta, who had not been present when Gerald 
had suggested the trip, looked a little inquiringly upon 
hearing their talk, not deigning, however, to ask any 
questions. Mrs. Porter seeing her dilemma, kindly came 
to the rescue by explaining what was in prospect, then 
asked : 

“Don’t you think you would enjoy it, Hetty?” 

“Not in the least; nothing would suffice to induce me 
to go jolting over those rocks and hills. No, I wouldn’t 
go for anything.” 

“ Yes you would, sister; if Mr. Barton was here and 
wanted you to go you would be as flip about it as any of 
us,” said Fred, who had been remarkably quiet since 
coming to the table. 

“But Mr. Barton will not be back from Louisville 
until Sunday, and were he here would not advise any of 
us to take such a tiresome trip; so don’t be too smart, 
Freddy,” retorted Hetty, tartly. 

“Well, you needn’t get sour about it, for Mr. Barton 
is not needed in this gang, or you, either, and don’t you 
forget it,” rejoined the boy, with equal spirit. 

Just as they all were leaving the diningroom, Mrs. 
Porter challenged Gerald for a game of chess; Henrietta 


118 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and Nellie betook themselves to their room, leaving Millie, 
Nettie, and Kosalind in the parlor to amuse each other as 
they saw fit. 

“Rosalind, please play something,” said Millie, open- 
ing the grand piano, and placing some music near to 
hand. Rosalind arose at once, and, seating herself at 
the piano, ran her fingers nimbly over the keys, while, 
in answer to her light touch, there came a medley of soft 
sweet sounds. “What a lovely tone has this instru- 
ment,” she exclaimed, mentally comparing it with the 
sharp sounding notes of the one in her Aunt Vilinda’s 
parlor. Then, with a sweeping prelude, she executed a 
most difficult piece of instrumental music, composed by 
one of the old masters. This being finished, she sang the 
beautiful, but simple little ballad, “Why Do Summer 
Roses Fade. ” The clear, rich voice rang out melodiously, 
rising and falling in rippling waves on the perfumed 
atmosphere, and in soft, sweet cadence, fioating into the 
library where sat Mrs. Porter and Gerald over the chess 
board. 

“A very pretty little song and very well rendered,” 
remarked the lady, on seeing that Gerald was listening 
with more interest to the singing than he was giving to 
the game — forgetting, entirely, that it was his move. 

“Yes, very,” he answered, “and it is rarely ever that 
we hear a voice so well trained, and yet so free from 
affectation. If there is anything I admire, it is a natural 
rendering of vocal music.” 

It was very hard for the widow to sit there and hear 
Gerald praising Rosalind’s voice; but she had too much 


ROSALIND VISITS IVY CROWN. 


119 


tact to betray her feelings. In decoying him from the 
presence of this girl, she felt that she had won a victory 
over her, and it would not do to overthrow this feeling 
by giving up to jealousy, hence she sweetly sanctioned 
Gerald’s opinion in regard to Kosalind’s singing. As to ’ 
Millie and Nettie, they were completely charmed with 
the song, and begged for another and another, until a 
number had been sung, each expressive of that same 
pathos and sweet melody. And so it was that the after- 
noon was whiled away. Fred and the two young men 
had equipped themselves immediately after luncheon and 
gone out bird-shooting, hence the three girls had spent the 
afternoon comparatively alone, and Rosalind had felt no 
embarrassment while singing, supposing Millie and Nettie 
were her only auditors. 

And as the shadows lengthened across the lovely grounds 
Peter and the antiquated carriage came to fetch Rosalind 
back to Morton Place. After the good-byes had been said 
and Rosalind was speeding along on her homeward way, 
she again contemplated upon the beauty and elegance of 
Ivy Crown. But it did not make her less content with 
her own home, though, by comparison, everything ap- 
peared plainer than ever at Morton Place, still she had 
too much of her father’s noble spirit to indulge in any 
useless regrets that she, too, was not thus surrounded. 
She had never been discontented with her lot during her ^ 
father’s lifetime, when it was still more lowly, and now she 
breathed a prayer of gratitude that she had fallen into such 
good hands and found a home among such genuine people. 

Thus far, Millie had proven the ideal friend of whom 


120 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


she had formerly dreamed and pictured in her imagina- 
tion, and Gerald had supplanted the hero of her romantic 
fancies, for in him her beau ideal of a grand and noble 
man had been fully realized. How much she admired 
him, and though she would not dare admit it even to her- 
self ; thought of him with that worshipful affection only 
experienced once in the lifetime of woman. 

The girl blushed deeply when she found herself think- 
ing of him and recalling his every word, look, and smile, 
and the many little delicate attentions he had shown her 
on that day. Then came the reaction, and she told her- 
self that she had no right to remember these things in 
this way, or attach any importance to his manner towards 
her. After all, he had only treated her as he would have 
treated any other stranger guest at his father’s house. If 
he had been a little more attentive to her than the rest, 
it was because of this reason. 

“How foolish of me to treasure up the thought that he 
has shown any preference for my society, when it was 
only his courtesy that caused him to do so,” she solilo- 
quiz'ed, sadly, as she approached her home. 

But, try as she would, she could not cease to think of 
him; an invincible power seemed to force his image be- 
fore her, and when she fell asleep that night she dreamed 
of him. 

Again she heard his deep, mellow voice, and again she 
was under the soothing influence of his presence, looking 
into his handsome face and listening to him detailing 
some incident so fraught with interest, and in her dreams, 
as in her waking hours, he appeared to her the incarna- 
tion of glorious manhood. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 

|T was early morning on the following Wednesday when 

the party from Ivy Crown, accompanied by Rosalind, 
found themselves comfortably ensconced in the hay 
wagon, winding slowly along a lofty road overlooking the 
beautiful bluegrass country. 

Right down below them, eastward, and just visible 
through the tall* trees of the distant forest, a brilliant sun 
was rising, while northward rose a range of hills, fringed 
along with wood, terminating in the west in far altitudes 
of mountainous regions. 

“How lovely!” was the simultaneous exclamation, 
after all had for some moments contemplated the scene. 

“It is an old but very true saying that nothing in art 
can compare with nature,” remarked Gerald, thought- 
fully. 

Then, as the outlook drifted from scene to scene, 
the conversation glided on, assuming a lighter tone, and 
all went as merrily as a marriage bell. 

By ten o’clock they were nearing their destination, and 
as they came within three or four miles of Rocky Hill the 
ruggedness of the road was indeed woful. But they all 
seemed to enjoy the jolt and jostle of the wagon, and 
laughed heartily while making every effort to keep their 
equilibrium. Especially did Fred and black Jim find 

121 


122 


ROSALIND MORTON, 


these sudden evolutions amusing, and allowed themselves 
to be tossed and tumbled about at random, half buried in 
the sweet scented new mown hay. 

But latterly, when the wagon became almost capsized, 
the wheels on one side resting on a huge rock and en- 
gulfed in a deep gutter on the other, and they all lost 
their balance and fell downward in a promiscuous heap, 
their merry laughter was succeeded by terrified shrieks 
from the ladies and sundry exclamations of alarm from 
the young men. 

In the confusion that followed, Mrs. Porter caught 
Gerald’s arm, and begged pathetically that the ladies 
would be allowed to alight from the vehicle, but he as- 
sured her it was entirely unnecessary. 

“This is the worst part of the road over which we will 
have to travel, as we are nearly in sight of the camp 
ground,” he added, then got out to assist the driver in 
removing the wheel from its elevated position. The la- 
dies had just time to adjust their disarranged toilettes and 
smooth their disheveled locks, when it was announced 
that they had reached Rocky Hill. 

Accordingly the awning which had protected them 
from the hot sun was raised, disclosing to their curious 
eyes a novel and picturesque sight. They beheld them- 
selves in a dense wood, in the midst of which were con- 
gregated an immense number of people, while ranged 
around and tied to every available limb were horses, 
mules, and many specimens of the old-fashioned donkey. 

A large number of vehicles of every description were 
blocking up the passage that led up to the stand where 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


123 


the services were conducted. This proved to be a large 
shed, with long rows of rudely constructed seats, which 
were being rapidly filled by the constantly increasing 
crowd. Situated a short distance from this rustic temple 
were a series of small buildings, some of which were 
composed of broad plank, while others represented the 
typical “pioneer log cabin.” And still further removed 
could be seen the smoke of camp fires, over which were 
suspended pots and kettles of every description. Grouped 
around these fires and the doors of the tents were women 
and children of all ages. 

As our party made their way through this vast assem- 
blage and entered the Tabernacle there was a great stir 
and commotion among the congregation; every head was 
turned, and some at the farther end of the building stood 
up, craning their necks to get a better view of the new 
comers, whose handsome appearance and stylish dress 
betokened them strangers in that remote part of the world. 

The minister had arisen, and was giving out the first 
stanzas of the opening hymn, but amid the confusion 
caused by the entrance of the party the quavering voice 
of the old man was completely lost. He stopped, and 
looking reproachfully around the eager, curious throng, 
said: 

“Will some of the brethren please find seats for these 
fine ladies? As for the men, they can look out for them- 
selves.” 

Upon the delivery of this rather cutting speech there 
was a general uprising of the men until two long benches 
had been almost vacated; hence the ladies (who had all 


124 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


flushed hotly at this crude rebuke of the minister) in 
a confused kind of way took their seats, while their es- 
corts remained standing. 

In a few minutes, however, one of the natives of 
Kocky Hill came up to them, and in a good-natured 
manner said, ‘‘Set down, you fellows, set down; hits our 
doty to comodate strengers, and we want you to be cum- 
furtable. ” 

“But we do not wish to deprive any one of their seats 
and can very well stand up,” replied Gerald, politely. 

“Wal, as fer as weuns is consarned, we hev our tints 
here and can go set in them hif we wants to. I tell you. 
Mister, youens is plum welcome to that ar bench.” 

Gerald thanked the man in behalf of all the gentlemen, 
ending the colloquy by accepting the seats, thus ridding 
himself of the attention of the gaping multitude. To say 
the least, the situation had been embarrassing to all the 
party, there having been no further attempt to continue 
the services, which their entrance had apparently inter- 
rupted, for, not until every one had become seated and 
the curiosity of the people somewhat appeased, did the 
minister recommence giving out the hymn; then, after 
looking around in the same solemn manner for some 
moments, in long-drawn syllables he continued : 

‘ ‘ There — is — a — fountain — filled — with — blood — 
drawn — from — Immanuel’s — veins. ” 

And the people sung in the same drawling tone, ac- 
companied by a prolonged nasal sound impossible to de- 
scribe. Gerald found it a hard task to keep the more 
giddy members of the company from giving vent to their 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


125 


amusement and laughing outright; especially did he ad- 
monish Millie to keep quiet, and strove to impress upon 
her the serious fact of how ill-bred it would appear to 
laugh at these poor, ignorant people, who had never 
known anything but poverty and toil. As to Nettie and 
Nellie, they did not dare look at each other, or either 
exchange glances with Henry and Edwin, knowing full 
well such would have ended in a general outburst of their 
stifled merriment. Rosalind having been accustomed 
to such people all her life, remained reverently atten- 
tive, making a few ineffectual attempts to join the sing- 
ers; and so they all sat preserving the most respectful 
silence. At last the song ended, and the old minister 
raised his withered hands and, in the most solemn tones 
possible to be imagined, said, “Let us pray.” The 
prayer was a long petition that the camp-meeting at Rocky 
Hill camp-grounds might be the greatest outpouring of 
spiritual grace that had ever been known, and that sin- 
ners might be convicted and mourners converted until a 
mighty shout would go up from that sin-infected congre- 
gation daily — yea, hourly — of hallelujah! hallelujah to 
the lamb! in whose blood their guilt had been washed 
away. And as the prayer continued the long drawn 
words and phrases increased, while other voices joined in, 
until the noise became uproarious. Gerald sat between 
Rosalind and Millie, which gave him the opportunity of 
observing the effect this excitement had upon the two. 
Rosalind,, so forcibly reminded of the dead past while 
listening to this stereotyped prayer, wept softly, while 
Millie had grown very pale and was trembling visibly. 


126 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


The thought that he had caused these young, innocent 
girls to weep was painful to Gerald, and he sincerely 
regretted having been instrumental in their coming under 
such influences. He felt confident that Millie had never 
committed an act that could be termed a sin in her life; 
and yet she appeared to be aroused to a consciousness of 
guilt by coming in contact with such. He therefore 
chided himself severely upon witnessing their emotion, 
and again told himself that it was very wrong in him to 
have brought his innocent-minded sister under the influ- 
ence of this, nothing more or less than animal excite- 
ment; and Kosalind, too, had been awakened to sad and 
painful recollections, and he inwardly wished that he had 
never heard of Rocky Hill, for of all things in the world, 
a woman’s tears was the most sorrowful sight to him. 
He felt that it was his duty to take them away at once, 
and would have done so but for the fear of causing an- 
other sensation. At last the prayer (which had been 
more noteworthy for its many words and repetitions than 
anything else) was ended, and after the amens had 
sounded and resounded, echoed and re-echoed through the 
vast throng, Gerald proposed to the two girls that they 
would go into the open air; but Millie refused downright, 
saying she “was very much interested and did not wish to 
leave.” Rosalind also assured him that she felt quite com- 
fortable, hence he could do nothing more. During this inter- 
lude, another minister had risen, who was as remarkable 
for his youth as the former for his years, and whose tow- 
ering height and angular form made him appear a curious 
spectacle, indeed. However, his unprepossessing person 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


127 


did not place any obstacle in the way of his religious zeal, 
or hinder it from asserting itself. Therefore, when he 
raised his lank form to its fullest height, and read his 
text in sharp, distinct tones, every eye was fastened upon 
him, and a silence as profound as death reigned supreme. 
“And he spake unto them a parable, saying. The ground 
of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully: and he 
thought within himself, saying. What shall I do, because 
I have no room where to bestow my fruits ? and he said. 
This will 1 do: I will tear down my old barns, and build 
greater; and there I will bestow all my fruits and my 
goods. And I will say to my soul, thou hast much good 
laid up for many years; take thy ease, eat, drink, and be 
merry. But God said unto him. Thou fool, this night 
shall thy soul be required of thee; then whose shall these 
things be which thou hast provided ? ” 

With the most marked emphasis and in the most deeply 
impressive manner did the young divine read the fore- 
going lesson, then, raising himself still higher, he pro- 
claimed, in denunciatory tones : 

“And thus it is with the rich man of to-day, he hoard- 
eth up his wealth, while his fields are laden with grain, 
and his trees with fruit, and his abundance is such that 
he has no place where to bestow it; so, likewise, he tear- 
eth away his old barns and buildeth new ones, and thus 
maketh room for his great abundance. And when he has 
everything stored away, he says unto his soul. Thou hast 
much good laid up; take thy ease — eat, drink, and be 
merry ! But I say unto you, while this rich man sitteth 
at his feast, while sparkling wines fill his golden goblets. 


128 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and he is saying to his soul, Take thy ease, for thou hast 
much good laid up, long years of plenty are before thee, 
God will say unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul 
shall be required of thee. Then whose shall these things 
be which he has provided ? Oh, sinner, why will ye not 
harken to the voice of the preacher, whom God has sent 
to warn you ? Why will you live for this world only, 
when you might be doing something for God ? Why will 
you not take of your abundance and give to the poor? 
Young man, and young woman, ye who have come here 
to-day with no other object in view than to gratify an 
idle curiosity, you who are rich in this world’s goods, 
whose fathers have great stores of fruit and grain laid 
away, and who have said to their souls, take your ease, 
and have bedecked their children with fine clothes and 
fine jewels, remember that to-day you are on holy ground 
which has been dedicated to God. I want you to bow 
your proud heads in humility to that All-wise Being who 
is ready to pardon you and claim you for his children.” 

While the young minister spoke thus, he came down 
from the pulpit, and, with a few long strides, made his 
way through the crowded aisle within a few feet of where 
our party were seated, then, stopping directly opposite 
them, he continued; 

“Ye of the rich, think of that eternity that awaits you; 
think of that worldly father, to whom God may even this 
night say. Thy soul is required of thee. Then what good 
would these things be that he has stored away? What a 
cry and beseeching for God’s mercy upon the soul of that 
father would be heard from your proud lips that never was 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


129 


heard before. But, too late; alas! too late; God would 
be deaf to your prayer, for that man had no need of God 
in this world, hence God will have no need of him in the 
next. His linal doom will have already been pronounced: 
Depart from me, ye workers of iniquity; I never knew 
you.” 

And while this exhortation went on, louder and louder 
grew the voice of the gigantic young man, while faster 
and faster flew his pronunciations of doom on the heads 
of the sinner, and higher and higher he towered, his hands 
waving in wild gesticulations, his eye dilating, and his 
breath hissing hotly from his parched lips; and, while he 
reeled backward and forward in unison with his zealous 
expostulation, the congregation were becoming worked 
up, and some were shouting, some praying, and some 
trying to start a song. At last a female voice — much 
stronger than the rest — made itself heard above the pre- 
vailing confusion, with, “I am so glad that Jesus loves 
me,” while, pitched from the very highest to the lowest 
key, other voices joined in, and still others, until it seemed 
that every one on the camp-ground was proclaiming these 
wonderful tidings; while rising above the voices of the 
singers could be heard that of the preacher, crying out, 
‘‘Sinner, come to-day; now is the appointed time; now 
is the day of salvation!” And from every direction 
women and men were crowding forward to the mourners’ 
bench, some rushing heedlessly along, throwing them- 
selves upon the ground, while others were being led by 
their friends to the anxious seat. 

By this time excitement had reached fever heat, and 


130 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the altar was literally crowded with mourners and zealous 
workers, who knelt by their friends, praying with them 
and speaking to them words of cheer and comfort. Then 
some one began to clap his hands and shout “glory,” 
and still another and another, until the largest portion of 
that great multitude was shouting “glory to God” while 
they passed about to and fro, shaking hands and telling 
each other that their souls were happy. With the in- 
creasing excitement Millie had become more deeply im- 
pressed than ever, and at this juncture was sobbing 
violently, while Rosalind, without betraying any agita- 
tion, continued to weep silently. Gerald, finding it im- 
possible to induce them to leave the stand, was obliged 
to endure the sight of their emotion as best he could. The 
solemn picture the young minister had painted had not 
been without its effect upon all, each being more or less 
impressed, but Millie had taken it to heart more than any 
of them, for it seemed that the sermon pointed directly 
to her father, and her thoughts were fixed on the subject 
of him while her tears continued to flow. However, at 
this moment something occurred to divert their minds 
from the intensity of thought and turn their solemnity 
into an opposite channel, as usual the ridiculous predom- 
inating. 

Seated on the bench in front of Fred was a very cor- 
pulent woman of about fifty years of age, who had from 
the beginning of the excitement rocked herself back and 
forth, as if trying in this wise to invoke the spirit, when 
all of a sudden she straightened up, and throwing up her 
hands, gave a leap backwards over the bench, landing 
right in the midst of the Ivy Crown party. 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


131 


“Glory! glory! glory!” she shrieked loudly, then sub- 
sided into a short silence, as if for the purpose of recov- 
ering breath, only to cry out that much the louder. With 
a renewal of these screams she commenced to beat the 
ground furiously, while every now and then the full force 
of her large hand would descend upon Fred, who at- 
tempted to move out of her reach, but in so doing his 
face received a sounding smack. At this unexpected 
turn of affairs a suppressed titter went the rounds of the 
little party, while Fred, red with anger, quitted his seat 
and beat a hasty retreat. And Gerald, somewhat 
amused, but more thoroughly disgusted, rose up, saying, 
“We had best get away from here as quickly as possible, 
for fear of sharing a like fate with Fred.” 

To this they all readily agreed, and moved off in the 
most quiet manner, making their way immediately to the 
wagon and setting about preparations for serving their 
luncheon at once. For some little while all preserved a 
prudent silence as regarded the services, until Fred, un- 
able to restrain his pent-up indignation towards the cor- 
pulent person longer, set the ball rolling by saying, 
“Well, that’s what I call a funny kind of worship — play- 
ing at leap frog and smashing a fellow’s face.” 

At this they all laughed heartily, while Henry and Ed- 
win joked the boy mercilessly, causing him to again walk 
away, leaving the others to continue to discuss the sub- 
ject his words had introduced. 

“It really appears that they made a target of us all, at 
whom they were at liberty to fire at any time it suited 
their convenience. For my part I do not see why that 


132 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


preacher directed his remarks almost entirely to our 
party, unless he thought us a wicked looking set,” said 
Edwin, making a comical grimace. 

“But didn’t he give it to us, though? 1 felt like sink- 
ing through the ground while he stood over us pronoun- 
cing upon our heads such an awful doom; it makes a fellow 
shake in his shoes to think about it,” retorted Henry, in 
a half serious tone. 

“1 really can’t see any sense in such worship, and 
think it perfectly barbarous, but I suppose it is intended 
for good, though 1 am not capable of judging whether it 
has that effect or not since this is my initiation into things 
pertaining to this mode of religion. I presume. Miss 
Morton, that you are very familiar with revivals of this 
kind?” .said Mrs. Porter, with a meaning little smile 
playing about her perfect lips. 

“Oh, yes, I frequently attended protracted and camp- 
meetings during papa’s lifetime, but I do not think I 
ever saw as much excitement before; papa did not ap- 
prove of it, and would make an effort to calm them down 
as soon as they would begin. He always told them the 
necessity of keeping orderly,” replied Rosalind, without 
noticing the touch of sarcasm in the well -modulated tone 
of the widow. 

“I wouldn’t have cared if some one had been here to- 
day to keep order, especially when that old woman com- 
menced her racket and tried to get up a scrap with me,’^ 
replied Fred, coming up again in time to hear Rosalind’s 
remark. 

“Well, Fred, you must forgive the old lady, and don’t 


THE CAMP^MEETING. 


133 


ridicule her any more; you must understand, my boy, 
that people in her condition are not conscious of their ac- 
tions, therefore are not responsible,” Gerald said, concili- 
atorily. 

‘‘But,” persisted Fred, “if she had slapped your face 
and pounded you like she did me, you would have been 
more than apt to kick, too.” 

“Religious creeds are so diverse among the different 
nations of the globe that to one who rambles around the 
world they become an interesting study,” said Gerald, 
ignoring Fred’s last remark, and addressing himself to 
the company. “For instance, there are the Oriental 
Jews, who still hold to their faith of past ages, and on 
a certain day of every year go hundreds of miles to the 
tomb of their prophet, Ezra, to bemoan his death, this 
being one of their most sacred religious duties. It so 
happened that 1 was a witness to one of these strange 
ceremonies (which was altogether an accident on my part). 
While steaming on the river Tigris, towards Bagdad, we 
saw this mausoleum, which lies upon the river bank close 
to the water’s edge. This happened to be a day of wor- 
ship, and as our steamer was full of tourists, and our cap- 
tain desirous of indulging us in everything pertaining to 
sight-seeing, we were accordingly landed at this point for 
the purpose of viewing this piece of antiquity, which is a 
large square hall, composed of brick work, and elevated 
about twenty feet from the ground. In the center of this 
is a great tombstone placed over the prophet’s grave. 
Ranged along with their faces turned to the wall and their 
backs toward the grave, were Jews of all ages and both 


134 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


sexes. They were hiding their faces, while some were 
praying, and others were shouting, gesticulating and cry- 
ing aloud; and this prophet for whom they were mourn- 
ing has been dead at least two thousand years. I have 
always had a great respect for religion, and to everything 
pertaining to holiness, but there are forms and ceremonies 
in every creed that I fail to understand, and which seem 
as absurd as these lamentations over a dead and gone 
prophet, whose soul has long since been transmitted into 
the keeping of an All-wise Creator.” 

There was a certain charm of intonation in Gerald’s 
voice that so harmoniously blended with the reserve and 
dignity of his manner, and was so perfectly in keeping 
with the cast of his features and the expression of his 
eyes, that it was impossible for any one to listen to his 
grave, sweet tones, without feeling fascinated and pro- 
foundly interested; hence it was without jealousy that all 
of his gentlemen friends acknowledged him specifically 
their superior, or rather, as one endowed with higher 
gifts. But to Kosalind, he was not only a superior talker 
and possessed of greater knowledge than other young men 
whom she had met, but he was a very god amongst men, 
and in all the world she did not believe there was another 
such. Her father had appeared the embodiment of all 
that was grand and noble in man, and it had seemed to 
her impossible for any one else to ever compare with 
him in the least. In her eyes he alone had been imbued 
with so much knowledge, and innate goodness combined, 
and as she had believed in the perfection of that father, 
so she believed in Gerald. Hence she was never happier 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


135 


than when listening to him — rarely ever advancing an 
idea unless personally addressed, never losing the light- 
est syllable that fell from his lips. Bagdad had been the 
theme of many a story her father had told her, and to 
hear Gerald’s reference to it, her ideas of the two became 
more closely associated than ever. All those landmarks 
of antiquity had been traversed by both of these men so 
identical in her life — the former to whom her memory clung 
so tenderly, the latter whose image was always before her. 
While she was thus thinking, all unconsciously, her blue 
eyes were fixed upon Gerald, and into their depths had 
crept an expression of that worshipful feeling with which 
she had become to regard him, when suddenly she re- 
membered where she was, and that there were others 
around. Shifting her glance from one to the other, she 
encountered Mrs. Porter looking at her, and upon her 
lips there played a sardonic smile. 

By this time black Jim and the driver had brought 
from the wagon the large hamper of appetizing eatables 
that had been so carefully put together by the indulgent 
grandmother and Kosalind’s Aunt Vilinda. They had 
already sought out a shady spot, where their luncheon 
was to be served, and now that they were far enough re- 
moved from the exciting scenes of the camp-meeting 
their vivacity of spirit began to recover. 

Mrs. Porter, who had refrained from again referring 
to the subject of the exercises of the morning, was as 
gracious and captivating as usual, while Nellie and Net- 
tie chattered incessantly to the two cadets; but Millie was 
not herself, and showed no signs of recuperating under 


136 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


these more cheering surroundings, and, as soon as she 
could quietly get away from the others, had taken Rosa- 
lind’s arm, and together they had sought a shade tree 
some distance removed from the rest of the party. 

Rosalind could divine her friend’s intentions, and was 
ready to try to comfort her in her present state of ap- 
parent trouble. However, she did not broach the subject 
herself, but waited for Millie to speak, who accordingly 
begun. ' 

‘‘I wish I had never come here, Rosalind,” she said, 
emphatically, after giving vent to a little sobbing sigh 
and leaning her head upon her hand in a despairing kind 
of way. 

Rosalind did not speak, but looked at her interrog- 
atively, and Millie continued: 

‘‘I never felt so bad in all my life as I have to-day; 
not on my own account, but papa’s, for it seemed to me 
that the minister meant e^ery word he said for him; I 
know papa would have laughed at such ideas, but I could 
not help but feel that there was a great deal of truth in 
what he said, and cold chills of horror were creeping over 
me all the time he was speaking; do you think, Rosalind, 
that papa will die like that man he described, and be pun- 
ished forever and ever?” 

Rosalind pressed Millie’s hand kindly, and replied: 

‘‘God is just, Millie, and judges the heart rather than 
the professions of man, and rewards every one according 
to their works. It makes no difference whether they be- 
long to any creed or not, just so they believe in Him 
and pray to Him and keep His commandments.” 


THE CAMP-MEETIIJG. 


137 


“Do you really think this, Rosalind, when your father 
was a minister?” asked Millie, a hopeful gleam illumina- 
ting her countenance. 

“Yes, I believe it; moreover, it was the doctrine my 
father taught — love God, pray to Him and keep his com- 
mandments, was the theme of his religious instructions,” 
Rosalind answered sweetly. 

“1 am so glad to have you tell me this, for I know 
papa has a kind heart and gives abundantly to the poor, 
and does a great many charitable things that nobody but 
we who see it know anything about; and now, dear, I feel 
better; you are getting to be a great comforter, indeed! 
and I do not know how I have gotten along this far with- 
out you.” 

“I am glad to hear you say this; never hesitate about 
calling upon me when I can be of any service to you.” 

Alas! little did Rosalind think what this promise would 
cost her, and how, in the not far distant future, through 
favoring this girl, her life would be almost wrecked, and 
her name the theme of whispered scandals. The two girls 
had become so much engrossed with the subject they had 
been discussing as to be unaware of the approach of a 
third party, and both started with surprise when a voice 
directly in their midst said: 

“Pardon me, ladies, for interrupting you, but Gerald 
has sent me to look you up.” 

Millie’s face flushed scarlet, but she tried to hide her 
embarrassment, and said, while she rose up quickly: 

“How you surprised me, Edgar! you being the last 
person in the world I was expecting to see; this is my 
friend. Miss Morton, Mr. Wilkerson.” 


138 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


The young man bowed gracefully in acknowledgement 
of the introduction, and Kosalind saw at a glance that he 
had a handsome face, with dark eyes and a mass of dark 
curling hair, and furthermore, that there was an expres- 
sion of deepest admiration shining from the dark eyes, 
blent with the most profound respect, while he stood 
there regarding Millie, who continued to chat incessantly, 
also plying him with many questions. 

In answer to the last one he said, “I reached home 
this A. M. at about seven o’clock, and after breakfasting 
and spending a couple of hours with the folks, I rode, 
over to Ivy Crown to find that you were all off for Rocky 
Hill, so I accordingly followed on.” 

“Of course you have lunched, Edgar, as Gerry would 
have surely given you something to eat before sending 
you out in search of us.” 

“Oh, certainly; you don’t suppose I would have ven- 
tured out on such a hazardous journey without having 
first prepared myself, do you?” replied the young man, 
mischievously. 

“I see you haven’t forgot how to pun,” retorted Mil- 
lie, as the trio turned their steps in the direction of the 
others, or rather where they had left them. 

Upon arriving on the aforesaid spot, however, they 
found only the servant boy, Jim, putting away the dishes 
and table linens, the party having scattered promiscu- 
ously about. 

“Master Gerald jist lef here bout a minit ago, an sed 
tell yu all he’d* be bac correctly,” said Jim, as soon as 
they came up. 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


139 


“Very well, Jim, we will wait for him,” Millie an- 
swered, dropping down on a log that had served as seats 
for the party while lunching. 

“I feel completely fagged out, and can stand up no 
longer; won’t you all avail yourselves of the same privi- 
lege?” she asked, motioning Kosalind and Edgar to a seat 
beside her. 

‘‘That would hardly be necessary, as we are about 
ready to start away from the camp grounds at once,” in- 
terrupted Gerald, appearing in their midst at that mo- 
ment. 

“Isn’t it rather warm to go now?” inquired Edgar, 
looking somewhat disappointed. 

“Entirely so, hence we are only going a mile or so 
distant and wait for the cool of the evening,” explained 
Gerald, leading the way to the wagon while speaking. 

In a short time their preparations for starting had been 
made, and they all were again stored away in the hay 
wagon. The place at which they had decided to stop was 
soon reached, and the party found themselves in a shady 
wood, where long branches of ancient looking trees 
laced and interlaced above their heads and swayed noise- 
lessly to the zephyr-like breeze. The silence and cool- 
ness of the retreat seemed doubly inviting to all, when 
compared with the heat and confusion of the place they 
had just left, and there was a feeling of relief experienced 
by each upon arriving at a spot so pleasantly inviting. 
Away into the distance arose landscape views, seeming 
to rise and fall in undulating waves, reflected as they 
were by the noonday sun, while a profound stillness 


140 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


reigned supreme. In this wood, so far removed from the 
traffic of the busy world, which nature alone had adorned 
and made beautiful, wandered the party, laughing and 
chattering gayly, like children, each one discovering 
some new charm everywhere their eyes would turn, and 
exclaiming, simultaneously : 

‘‘How lovely ! how grand ! how beautiful !” 

Eosalind was greatly enthused, murmuring inaudibly, 
“Truly, this is God’s own temple!” while viewing the 
magnificent handiwork of nature which surrounded and 
encompassed her. She soon separated from the others 
and sought out a little sylvan nook, the beauty and soli- 
tude of which having attracted and drawn her thither. A 
green, mossy little glen, almost hidden by overhanging 
boughs of great straggling trees that hedged it in, while 
clustering about these trees, as if nature had designed 
its perfect seclusion, were closely woven vines of wild 
honeysuckle and clematis, now heavy with luxuriant fo- 
liage and bloom, while lightly imbedded in the carpeting 
of moss beneath her feet, wild violets, forget-me-nots, and 
bluebells, were blooming in rich profusion. In the center 
of this pretty little alcove was a large rt)ck, partly moss- 
covered and grass-grown, grey and motley with age. If 
it was solitude Eosalind had mostly desired, she had 
found it, indeed! for nothing — not even the twitter of a 
bird — broke the quiet; and within this sequestered spot, 
perched upon the old grey rock, the girl gave herself up 
to the luxury of gazing on the natural loveliness of her 
little sanctum and day-dreaming. Soon, however, the 
sound of footsteps broke into her reverie, and the next 


THE CAMP-MEETING. ' 141 

moment the vines parted and Gerald stood before her. 

‘‘Truly, a fitting throne for a fairy queen; do I behold 
her majesty’s presence?” he said, bowing and smiling 
upon her — one of those rare smiles which gave such a 
charm to his face. 

“Alas, no! With the coming of mortal, her majesty 
has fled,” replied Rosalind, in the same tone of mock 
seriousness. “But, without jesting, isn’t this a beautiful 
place, and doesn’t it seem suited to a fairy court, if such 
things really existed?” 

“It does, indeed! and one only has to call to aid a 
certain amount of imagery to people such a spot with 
flocks of gleesome little nymphs; instead, however, in 
this matter-of-fact age, those who might chance upon it, 
would be more apt to think how easily afoul murder could 
be perpetrated and concealed here. The poetry and ro- 
mance of life has almost passed away, and such pretty 
little idealisms are looked upon as entirely mythical, and 
belonging to past ages — Tempora mutantur, et nos muta- 
mur in illis. Like Ouida, I think that all feelings were 
stronger, warmer and deeper, in the earlier ages of the 
world, while in this age everything is dwarfed and 
stunted in its growth from the very offset; and it is simply 
for this reason that we no longer have great poets and 
great philosophers amongst us. In those ages genius 
ruled the world — now it is the almighty dollar. Miss 
Morton, have you ever read Goethe?” 

“Yes; my father and I read his works together,” 
Rosalind replied, with animation. 

“Well, I wish to refer you to Faust as typical of the 


142 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


past and present. As you are aware, he was a student 
toiling after knowledge beyond his reach, and, not hav- 
ing acquired the summit of his ambition, became dis- 
heartened and forsook his studies and sold himself to 
Mephistopheles. This allegory shows to what depths 
human nature can sink and from what heights it can de- 
scend, or in other words, to what extremes people are 
prone to wander, hence our age of enlightenment falls 
far short of what is termed the darkened ages, and it 
really seems the world rejoices in retrograding; you are 
fond of the classics from the fact that your father was a 
scholar and did not live for the foolish pleasures of the 
world, while others study them merely because, as a 
branch of education, it is required of them, without one 
spark of appreciation for their fine language and true in- 
terpretation of character. No such wisdom and ardor of 
genius now exists, or if it does it is rarely found out. I 
should have liked very much to have known your father,” 
he added, after a moment’s pause. 

How these words touched Rosalind no one could have 
ever guessed, and how much nearer she was drawn to 
this man by the expression of this wish. A great tide of 
emotion swept over her, causing her cheeks to fiush and 
pale in rapid succession and her lips to tremble. As 
soon as she could control her voice sufficiently, she said: 

‘‘Your ideas, and views of life also, are very much 
like his, and I know you would have been very con- 
genial; I, too, would have been very glad for you to 
have known each other.” 

Then, as if prompted by a sudden impulse to talk of 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


143 


him, she told Gerald of their quiet, peaceful life at 
Brookdale, where all her childhood had been spent, and 
how she had grown into womanhood with no other 
teacher or companion but that loved father; and how 
their final separation had been brought about by that 
grim-visaged monster — death! And how she had then 
found a friend and protector in the kind old aunt who 
had taken her to her heart and home. With what linger- 
ing pathos did she dwell on the little details of their every- 
day life at Brookdale, and how sad and plaintive grew 
her voice as she described the last days he had spent 
with her on earth. 

And while Gerald listened he felt awakening within 
his heart a profound sympathy — a pity for the loneliness 
•of the orphan touched him reverently, causing the inter- 
est and admiration with which he had hitherto regarded 
her to take upon it a tenderer form, surprising to himself 
and increasing in significance as he continued to realize 
it. Recollecting that it was no time or place for him to 
indulge in a reverie, thus vainly endeavoring to sift and 
analyze his own feelings, he hastened to say: 

“I feel deeply grateful. Miss Morton, for this proof of 
your esteem; the confidence you have given me by en- 
trusting to me a synopsis of your former life shall be 
treasured with most sacred reverence,” and into these 
words there was much more feeling than he would have 
-cared to express. 

Before Rosalind could form an answer the sound of 
Toices were heard, and in another moment Millie had 
burst in upon them, exclaiming, “Oh, here they are, and 


144 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


what a lovely place — a regular little bower it is, and so 
romantic; but who would have ever thought of Gerry, 
our bachelor, seeking out such a spot for a quiet tete-a- 
tete; it is just to surprising for anything. But I hope 
you will forgive the intrusion, as Nettie and I were sent 
by the others to look you up. They all say it is high 
time we were on the way home; in fact, Mrs. Porter de- 
clares we will not reach Ivy Crown to-night if we don’t 
start at once.” 

At this Gerald looked at his watch, and found to his- 
amaze that it was half-past four, and mentally asked 
himself, “where had the hours gone?” which had only 
seemed minutes, so quickly had the time passed while he 
talked to Kosalind. But he did not regret having tarried, 
and that chance had brought about this meeting between 
he and Kosalind, for it had been the means of giving him 
a clearer insight of the character of this high- soul ed, pure- 
minded girl, and had also taught him with what high es- 
teem he was regarded by her. 

“It is indeed later than I thought, and I suppose we 
might as well start now,” he said, nonchalantly. 

Accordingly, every one soon got themselves in ship- 
shape style, and the hay-ride was recommenced; this time 
more after the idea of modern fashion, for it was not long 
until the sun sunk behind the forest hills, and the shadows 
deepened in duskiness, and the purple mantle of night 
had wrapt the earth in darkness. However, their ride 
home was quite a pleasant one, the worst part of the road 
having been traversed before the night had fallen upon 
them. It was past midnight when they reached Ivy 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


145 


Crown, and as they drove in by a side entrance, lighted 
by a solitary lamp, which reflected the house, half hidden 
behind the dense evergreens and tall oaks, there was 
something almost uncanny and phantasmal in the dimly- 
lighted grounds through which the heavy vehicle moved 
slowly. But the party found a more cheerful light await- 
ing them, streaming out from the hall door, that had 
been left open to admit them, and they all alighted and 
trooped into the large diningroom in a rather tiptoe fash- 
ion, where, in a few moments, everything was light and 
color. The long table was, as usual, dazzling with silver 
and cut-glass, while here and there a rare old piece of 
china loomed up conspicuously. As to the late dinner, 
as they fashionably termed it, this proved to be a very 
gay and talkative one, for none of the servants, but the 
butler, had remained up, and pretty soon he, too, was 
dismissed, while^Gerald took up the role, acquitting him- 
self very gracefully in this capacity; in truth, every one 
became busy handing around the various dishes, and the 
chat and laughter — which at first had been carried on in 
a somewhat subdued tone — gradually grew louder and 
louder, until it had almost become boisterous, Nettie and 
Millie proving the most vivacious of the talkers, while 
Fred occasionally made it convenient to throw in the 
latest and most improved slang; and, amid the din of 
voices, his could be heard proclaiming itself in this wise: 
“Oh, what are you giving me? you had better take a 
drop on yourself.” These phrases were generally ad- 
dressed to Millie, with whom he was wont to take the 
more privileges than with any of the rest. Kosalind had 
10 


146 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


never felt happier than while under the influence of so 
much life and gayety. Naturally enough her youth and 
health responded to this animated state of existence, and, 
despite the fact that Mrs. Porter had appeared cold to- 
ward her all day, — latterly, almost ignoring her presence, 
and was now endeavoring to weave about Gerald her 
spells of fascination — in spite of all this, she was happy, 
for she felt that in her secret heart she could always think 
of him as an embodiment of all her idealism; for was he 
not noble, handsome, and wise, and a very god amongst 
men ? and while all these thoughts of him were Ailing her 
somewhat fanciful little head, Millie was talking and 
laughing with the greatest zest. “Just to think what a 
day we have had of it, and now that I am at home once 
more, I feel like a bird let loose, and I must talk; so 
please don’t any one stop me. I am so glad to be home 
again, and away from the sight of that solemncolly min- 
ister, who said such frightful things,” she went on, laugh- 
ing and speaking in her light and joyous tone. 

“You’ve a lot of cheek, I must say,” put in Fred, who 
became immediately cross upon mention being made of 
the camp-meeting, and wore upon his countenance a look 
of utter disgust — and no wonder, for truly he had been 
as a target all the afternoon, at which the banter of the 
whole party had been aimed. 

“Well, never mind, Fred; since you escaped without 
any more serious injuries than a boxing from the fat 
woman, you might as well get good-natured again and 
rejoice with the rest of us in the thought that we have, at 
all hazards, enjoyed a first-class hay-ride,” said Henry, 
looking knowingly at Nellie. 


THE CAMP-MEETING. 


147 


“And some of you did not forget to carry out the old 
adage of making hay while the sun was shining,” quoted 
Edwin, directing his glance towards Kosalind and Ger- 
ald. 

Mrs. Porter, always on the alert, seeing the little 
frown of annoyance cross Gerald’s brow, hastened to 
the rescue by saying sweetly, “At least we can all claim 
a ‘hey-day’ time of it, if nothing more.” 

This jeu d ’esprit from the wily widow was not, as it 
seemed, incidently spoken, but intended as coup d’etat 
towards Gerald, by way of warding off any suspicion of 
jealousy he might suspect her of entertaining towards 
Rosalind; and she was right, for the light gayety with 
which she had treated the reference to the two haying 
spent the greater part of the afternoon tete-a-tete had 
the desired effect upon Gerald, causing him to admire 
her the more for exercising so much common sense in 
having relinquished all idea of a renewal of their former 
relations. But tho’ to all appearances such was the case, 
her determination as regarded this question was more 
fixed than ever. Upon this occasion Rosalind had not 
only realized the complete happiness Gerald’s society af- 
forded her, but she had also made a discovery, which 
concerned Millie and Edgar Wilkerson. The effect this 
young man’s presence had produced upon Millie was in- 
deed marvelous, for never had she witnessed such a de- 
cided change from grave to gay as his coming had ap- 
parently brought about. In truth, she had never seen 
her in such gay spirits before, or her cheeks glowing 
and eyes sparkling with such life and animation as upon 


148 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


this occasion; and then, too, she had not failed to seethe 
soft glances and hand pressures exchanged between these 
two on their way homeward. Edgar had resigned his 
horse to black Jim, and returned with the party in the 
wagon; hence Kosalind, sitting near Millie, had all unin- 
tentionally been a witness to this little by-play, which 
told her plainer than words that they were something 
more to each other than friendly acquaintances; that they 
were lovers, not the shadow of a doubt then remained 
within her mind. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE MYSTERY OF IVY CROWN. 

y^HILE the rest of the party continued to sit at the 
table and chat, Rosalind became a silent listener, 
her own thoughts having taken possession of her, which 
were, however, very pleasant ones, and as she had long 
since finished her dinner, she arose f^om the table ap- 
parently unobserved and noiselessly made her way to one 
of the long French windows; drawn aside the heavy cur- 
tain, and slid into a chair beside it. letting the curtain 
fall about her, which completely concealed her from view. 

How intently still everything appeared in the outside 
world; not a leaf quivered; no late bird fluttered towards 
her nest and chirped to her nestlings; the young moon 
had long since veiled her face, and only the stars and the 
light that streamed from out the open window relieved 
the grounds from total darkness. This stillness, so 
peaceful and profound, suited the girl’s mood, and invol- 
untarily the beautiful lines of Longfellow’s hymn to the 
night rose to her lips, and in a half whisper' she mur- 
mured : 

‘•I heard the trailing garments of the night 
Sweep through the marble halls ; 

I saw her sable skirts — all fringed with light 
From the celestial walls. 


“ I felt her presence by it’s spell of might 
Stoop o’er me from above ; 

The calm majestic presence of the night, 
As of the one I love.” 


149 


150 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“As of the one I love,” she again repeated, while a 
great tide of feeling swept over her; all her pulses were 
bounding, seeming to be imbued with new and ecstatic 
life. A sensation of happiness, so full and complete, in 
living, came with an overpowering, all-absorbing realism. 
What was it that had dawned upon her life, awakening 
all these unknown senses and quickening them into the 
most intense vibrations? she asked herself as she sat 
there looking into the outside world, then so dark, so 
mysterious, yet withal inspiring her with such new emo- 
tions. 

There had yet come no answer to this query, when sud- 
denly a slight sound, emanating from a clump of ever- 
greens, situated a few feet from the window, attracted her 
attention and caused her to start up in alarm. But before 
she could withdraw herself from the retreat, a figure — 
hideous in aspect and horribly uncanny — leaped out from 
behind the cedars and came close up beside her, so close, 
in fact, that had it reached out one of its long, skeleton- 
like hands, it could have touched her. And she saw with 
a glance that it was the same creature that she had en- 
countered in the grounds on her first visit to Ivy Crown, 
but, as seen in this wan light, it appeared twice as un- 
earthly as it had upon the first occasion. And while it 
stood beside her thus, it begun to babble its incompre- 
hensible gibberish, and reached forth one of its claw-like 
hands as if to grasp her and drag her forth into the utter 
darkness. Rosalind attempted to fly from the horrible 
something that seemed to hound this lovely home, but 
her limbs refused to carry her, seeming to have become 


THE MYSTERY OP IVY CROWN. 


151 


perfectly paralyzed with terror which finally so overcome 
her, that with a stifled moan she sank upon the floor in a 
dead swoon. Gerald having missed her from the table, 
was just in the act of going in search of her, when the 
noise of her fall caused him to look into the recess of the 
window; then seeing, with consternation, what had hap- 
pened, he returned to the table and, calling Millie to one 
side, he quietly instructed her to take the guests from the 
diningroom and return to him as soon as they had been 
disposed of — “remember, to say that Miss Morton has 
already gone to her room for the night.” All Millie’s 
roses were at once transformed into the whitest of lilies, 
when Gerald drew aside the curtain and disclosed to her 
Rosalind lying there so white and still, that all semblance 
of life had fled. However, she did not scream or faint, 
but, obedient to Gerald’s wish, proposed to her lady 
guests to conduct them to their rooms, adding in as natural 
a tone as she could assume, “that Rosalind had already 
retired.” As soon as all had vacated the room, Gerald 
returned to Rosalind, and, raising her in his arms as if 
she had been an infant, he held her for one brief moment 
clasped close to his heart; and then it was that he real- 
ized that the most tender chords of his nature had been 
swept with a masterful stroke, and came to understand 
fully that it was no longer a question of regard and sym- 
pathy with which she had inspired him — but love. This 
knowledge came to him then and there with force and 
vigor, and, as he gazed into her lovely face, all the glo- 
rious imagination of his youth seemed to have been born 
again — the idealism of his soul had again sprung into life. 


152 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Then he heard Millie’s steps coming rapidly toward him, 
and he laid his sacred charge upon a couch. As his sister 
approached, she saw that Gerald’s face was almost as 
white as that of the inanimate girl’s, and she, too, felt 
overcome with anxiety; for some moments no word was 
spoken, but between the two, there was exchanged a look 
of sympathy and mutual understanding. Then Gerald 
said, abruptly, ‘‘Attend to her, Millie; there are other 
duties awaiting me now.” The next moment he had 
stepped from the window into the densely shadowed 
grounds. When Rosalind came back to consciousness, 
she found Millie kneeling beside her, looking pale and 
sorrowful, and in nowise like the Millie of half an hour 
ago — then so radiant with smiles and blushes. “What 
has happened?” she asked, looking vaguely Ground, and 
letting her eyes rest upon Millie wonderingly. 

“Nothing, only you were a little faint after the fatigue 
and excitement of the day, but you are ever so much bet- 
ter now, aren’t you ? ” Millie asked sweetly, adjusting the 
pillows and. trying to look unconcerned. 

Rosalind listened to Millie’s explanations in a bewil- 
dered kind of way, then her glance wandered in the di- 
rection of the window. Upon seeing the partly drawn 
curtain, and the chair in which she had sat a few minutes 
previous, she shuddered with horror, for the memory of 
the fearful spectacle returned to her, and raising herself 
from the sofa, she looked straight at Millie. 

“You are mistaken, Millie, in regard to the fatigue and 
excitement of the day causing me to faint, for it was not 
that, but a fright I received while at the window. Oh, it 
was horrible, and 1 must tell you about it.” 


THE MYSTERY OF IVY CROWN. 


153 


‘‘No, no; not now; Gerry said I must keep you quiet, 
and put you to bed as quickly as possible; he has gone 
out now to see if there is any one prowling about the 
grounds who might have frightened you; but come now, 
if you feel able to walk we will go to my room and try 
to get a little sleep; look, it will soon be daylight!” she 
continued, drawing aside the curtain and revealing a mys- 
terious gray light in the sky that had no warmth in it, but 
which betokened the near approach of morning; at that 
moment, too, a clock in some part of the house chimed 
the hour of four. The short summer night had sped away 
on lightning wings. 

Obedient to Gerald’s wishes, Rosalind did not attempt 
to further discuss the strange visitation, for she remem- 
bered what her aunt Yilinda had told her of the mystery 
that seemed to hover constantly about the walls of this 
ancestral home; hence she felt intuitively that it was best 
to keep silent on the subject. But thoughts of this and 
many other things were confusedly passing in her mind 
while she lay beside Millie, vainly invoking the drowsy 
god to visit her pillow and thus restore her usual calm; 
but her efforts were unavailing, and when the sunlight 
streamed through the casements of stained glass, all rose 
and violet hued, she was still wakeful and feverish. Bhe 
knew she could not partake of breakfast, which would be 
served at nine o’clock, so she begged that Millie would 
allow her to quietly take her leave before any of the rest 
of the household had arisen. She wished to walk to 
Morton Place in the early cool of the morning, and 
though Millie tried in every way to get her to relinquish 


154 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the idea, she carried it out, wending her way all alone 
through the beautiful woods while the inmates of Ivy 
Crown were yet abed. So preoccupied with her thoughts 
was she as she walked homeward that for one time in her 
life she failed to see and admire the beauties of nature 
round about her. This new phase of life into which she 
had so suddenly merged, so fraught with changeful inter- 
est, was bewildering to her. It was almost impossible to 
realize how she had at once taken her position amongst 
these grand people, and how friendly she had been re- 
ceived and welcomed in their midst, and then the fact 
dawned upon her mind that these people had found her 
congenial to them because she, too, was of gentle blood, 
for though her father had chosen such an humble lot in 
life, he was nevertheless by birth and education an aristo- 
crat, and in Gerald Underwood she had found his coun- 
terpart; yes, surely he was very like him in many ways; 
and she again recalled to mind how happy she had been 
while under the influence of his presence, and all the de- 
lights her heart had known on the day previous, until 
that strange menacing presence had come to awaken her 
from her happy dream, and cause an icyness to settle about 
her heart that had been at that time throbbing with such 
new and tender emotions. What was this mysterious 
creature that had twice appeared to her, a thing horribly 
uncanny in daylight, but doubly hideous by night? Was 
it real flesh and blood, or was it something supernatural ? 

Kosalind trembled violently and grew white as death as 
she recalled the loathsome visaged thing leering at her; 
there was something in its expression that filled her with 


THE MYSTERY OP IVY CROWN. 


155 


disgust and sickening terror; she tried, however, to 
banish its image from her mind and appear as though 
nothing had disturbed her, for she was nearing Morton 
Place and she did not wish to frighten her aunt with 
white cheeks and terror-stricken eyes. 

Miss Morton, keenly observant to everything, did not 
fail to see that Rosalind’s cheeks were colorless and that 
she appeared far from well. 

“ ’Pon my word, child, you are wearing yourself out 
trying to keep up with these fashionable young folks at 
the Crown; you are just as white as a sheet this morning, 
and will be sick if you don’t rest yourself up a little be- 
fore taking another jaunt,” exclaimed the old lady as 
soon as she entered the house. 

Rosalind did not feel in a mood to tell Miss Yilinda 
the cause of her indisposition, but merely said that she 
was not feeling very well, and would go to her room and 
lie down for awhile; at which Polly screamed and laughed 
loudly, and then, in her shrillest tones, cried out, “Hello^ 
Rosa. I say, Rosa, it’s your bedtime; go to bed — to bed, 
my pretty Rosa; my pretty red Rosa.” 

But all the bird’s hilarity of spirits failed to amuse 
pretty Rosa on that day, and she was glad to escape to 
her room as quickly as possible, and while our heroine 
retires to her couch to seek the so much needed repose, 
and the breezes of Somnus are gently fanning her into 
the rosy bowers of dreamland, we will return to Edgar 
Wilkerson, who had also spent the remainder of the night 
under the hospitable roof of Ivy Crown, and, like Rosa- 
lind, was returning at an early hour to his father’s home. 


156 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


He, too, was indulging in a deep train of thought as he 
walked his horse leisurely along the highway that lay be- 
tween the two farms; and that his thoughts were not of 
the. most pleasant nature, could be easily deciphered 
from the expression of his face. Finally his reverie took 
the form of words: “It is duced hard, and yet — ” and 
then followed a prolonged whistle; and again he fell to 
thinking. So absorbed was he as he passed along the 
beautiful country, with its broad fields and rich pas- 
tures of verdure, rendered doubly beautiful at this 
time, laden with dewdrops, which sparkled and glis- 
tened in the morning sunlight, that he failed to ob- 
serve anything pertaining to the grandeur of his sur- 
roundings, or realize how truly this had been termed 
“God’s country.” In vain had Nature put on her 
brightest and loveliest attire; in vain did the birds carol 
forth their sweetest notes as they sat among, and flitted 
about, the thick branches of the green hedge on either 
side — all in vain! And when he saw that he was ap- 
proaching near his home, he walked his horse still more 
slowly, as if loath to give up his quiet ride — the solitude 
around him was better adapted to his feeling than the con - 
fusion of his father’s house. Arrived there, he made no 
stop until he had reached his own room.^ Then, lighting 
a cigar and putting on his slippers, he continued thinking. 
He recounted his boyhood with the uncongenial home 
associations, and how his acquaintance with Millie Under- 
wood — the blue-eyed fairly-like child — had been the first 
break of sunshine to illumine and make beautiful his 
heretofore sombre-hued life; and how, since the first day 


THE MYSTERY OP IVY CROWN. 


157 


he had spoken to her, and been allowed to carry her 
satchel of books to and from the school she had at- 
tended, he had cherished her image as the most sacred 
thing on earth. In those days she had been his witching 
fairy, his good angel; now she had grown to be his heart’s 
idol, his beautiful goddess, and the schoolboy love had 
grown with his growth, and intensified with his manhood 
until it was no longer love which filled his whole being 
for her, but worship. And yet when he compared her 
aristocratic blood, and the social element surrounding her, 
to that of his common place position in life, he felt that 
the difference that lay between them was as wide as a 
gulf, and with this realism would come a wild despair, 
which, for a time, would prove overwhelming to his hopes 
and desires. But again, out of the chaos of doubts and 
fears, and almost utter hopelessness, one bright ray of 
sunshine — if not of hope — would brighten the gloom of 
his soul; and that was the thought that, in spite of all the 
obstacles that arose between them, Millie, sweet Millie 
Underwood, was not indifferent to him; yea, he even 
dared to believe that she loved him — not with the adoring, 
worshipful love he had bestowed upon her, but with that 
coy, girlish preference, manifested in so many ways; but 
alas, while his love would continue to grow and expand, 
she could never be to him more than what she had been 
the day before, when he sat beside her in a hay wagon. 
And were not their present ones the only possible rela- 
tions that could, or would, ever exist between them, and 
ought he not to be proud and content that even this much 
was his? Reason told him that this ought to satisfy him. 


158 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


but his heart cried out for something more. Why could 
he not be guided by reason, when it plainly pointed him 
to the truth that their paths would be divided in the fu- 
ture? For well he knew of the Underwoods’ pride of 
birth, and, knowing this, he also knew that Judge Under- 
wood would never consent to one of his children making 
a mesalliance, and only some one whose blood ran as 
blue in his veins as that of Millie’s could marry her, and 
that one would be sure to come along sooner or later; and 
where would he be then? Only a remembrance, and 
nothing more. And so the impalpable was interwoven 
with those dreams of her, which would come unbidden by 
day, as well as night. Then, in the despair of thus lov- 
ing her, came vague thoughts of setting aside all conven- 
tionality, caste, and everything else, that arose as an im- 
pediment between them, and make bold to claim her, and 
wear her in his heart forever. Then he would question 
within himself if she would be willing to descend from 
those serene heights, upon which she now stood, and 
yield herself a willing companion for his humbler walks 
in life. Again his mood changed into bitter self-re- 
proach, and self-contempt, and he asked himself why 
did he indulge in such miserable folly in reaching out 
for what was utterly beyond his grasp, in thus presuming 
to think of marriage with the daughter of an aristocrat; a 
girl, too, who was unmistakably proud of her blue blood: 
and he, only a struggling lawyer — a nobody — whose fam- 
ily would only be parvenues, no matter what he ever at- 
tained in his profession. 

So the long morning crept by, while his thoughts roved 


THE MYSTERY OF IVY CROWN. 


159 


on; one moment he would be placing leagues and leagues 
between Millie and himself, the next picturing her smil- 
ing, blushing face, as she had appeared the day before; 
could it be possible that it was only yesterday when he 
sat by her side and held her little hand within his own ? 
It seemed that ages instead of hours had elapsed since he 
had seen her, and he wondered, if this privilege was de- 
nied him, what would become of him, and asked himself 
bow he would bear it? He was aroused from his reverie 
by the sound of the high noon dinner bell, and then he 
bnew he would have to go through the ordeal of meeting 
the other members of the family in the diningroom. This 
he dreaded, on this day in particular, as he felt in no 
mood to see his mother sitting at the head of the table 
with a loose wrapper upon her uncorseted figure, and, 
moreover, to be compelled to listen to her denunciatory 
remarks about the grandees whom he had been visiting, 
this term being always applied by her to the Underwoods 
when speaking of them. 

Ail this was humiliating to the greatest degree to the 
young man; especially after just having come from under 
the refining influence of the inmates of Ivy Crown did he 
realize the coarseness of the very atmosphere of his home. 
Though John Wilkerson, the father of Edgar, was in 
point of wealth the equal of any of the well-to-do citizens 
of the bluegrass regions, still he belonged to the medioc- 
racy, and did not boast of any of the royal blue blood 
which was the heritage of the proud aristocrat. He was 
only plain John Wilkerson, who had just enough educa- 
tion to read and write a little; however, it was said that 


160 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


he came of a very good Virginia family, but had ran 
away from home when quite a lad on account of the cru- 
elty of his stepmother, becoming a hired hand in the 
home of an ignorant old man who thought it unnecessary 
to educate his children. Later on in life, after he had 
grown to manhood, he had married the daughter of his 
employer — a woman perfectly illiterate. Thus it was, 
having by his industry and perseverance amassed a con- 
siderable sum, ■ he was enabled to purchase a blue- 
grass farm in this cultured locality. Having felt the in- 
feriority of his position as compared with his neighbors, 
who represented the elite of Kentucky, he had resolved to 
spare no pains in educating his only son, Edgar, who had 
proven a very bright pupil while at school; therefore he 
had been given a collegiate course, after the completion 
of which he had adopted the study of law; and at the 
time he is introduced to the reader is installed as junior 
partner in a prominent law office of Lexington, and had 
come home to spend his summer's vacation. 

That these visits were not always of the most pleasant 
nature one can easily imagine; but he was a dutiful son, 
and endeavored with all his strength of will not to de- 
spise the home that had sheltered his infancy and the 
mother who had cradled him on her bosom. But while 
he respected his father and honored him for his industry 
and integrity of character, always listening attentively to 
his good-natured narrations and to the oft-repeated story 
of how he* begun life, tlie ignorance and stubborn arro- 
gance of his mother disgusted him and at times became 
insufferable. She hated those who represented the higher 


THE MYSTERY OF IVY CROWN. 


161 


elements of life with a venom, and never let an oppor- 
tunity pass without venting her dislike upon them. 

These good people, however, ignored the fact of 
Mrs. Wilkerson’s distaste, attempting in various ways 
to make friends with the two girls and Edgar, but it was 
with the son only did they succeed, as the daughters were 
never permitted by the mother to accept any of the 
friendly invitations extended to them; and through her 
precaution also, their education had been limited to that 
of the village school. 

But to return to Edgar, who had just answered the 
dinner bell, and whom we now find making one of the 
family group around the table. Scarce had he seated 
himself at the family board than his eyes were struck 
with the contrast afforded between this and the hand- 
some room and tastefully arranged table, laden with sil- 
ver and cut glass, at which he had sat the night before 
under the hospitable roof of Ivy Crown. Instead of the 
costly furniture there were cheap chairs, a cheap table 
and a cheap sideboard; instead of the valuable silver 
plate, the dinner was served upon the very cheapest of 
china. All this lack of taste and refinement fell with 
sickening effect upon the sensitive nerves of Edgar, and 
he realized more fully than ever the great and insur- 
mountable barrier that would serve in future to separate 
him from Millie. 


11 


CHAPTER XI. 

MILLIE’S SECRET. 


ALL day long the rain had fallen incessantly, sometimes 
/ in swift, brisk showers, then again in a slow, monot- 
onous patter, that gave no sign of ceasing. The sky was 
completely overcast with leaden-hued clouds, and the at- 
mosphere was heavy with that damp chilliness — at once 
penetrating and disagreeable. The beautiful green mead- 
ows around about Morton Place were almost submerged 
and everything without presented a drenched, dismal ap- 
pearance. Rosalind stood at the parlor window looking 
out upon the darkened sky and increasing downpour, and 
lamenting over the rain. Fully a week had passed since 
she had seen Millie, but the day previous a note had come 
to her, saying, “I am just dying to see you, and do not 
think I can exist another day without this privilege; so I 
am coming to Morton Place to-morrow, and don’t you 
forget it. Remember, too, that when I come I have a 
secret to tell you.” 

And then it was almost six o’clock, and still Millie had 
not put in an appearance, hence Rosalind had about de- 
spaired of her coming, thinking the continuous rain had 
rendered her visit impossible. But, not so, for just as she 
I had arrived at this conclusion, a carriage turned a bend 
in the road and came directly toward the house; in a few 
moments stopping at the gate. Then the driver, in 
sleek, shining oilcloth, came down from his seat, opened 

162 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


T63 


the door of the vehicle, and, to Rosalind’s great joy, out 
stepped Millie, sweet and smiling as a half-blown rose, 

“Did you think I was not coming? Well, if you did, 
you were never more mistaken in your life, my pretty 
Rosa,” she exclaimed as she tripped up the walk and 
stood beside Rosalind, holding her rosy lips for a kiss. 

“Yes; to tell the truth, Millie, I had about given up 
the hope of your coming to-night. So I am doubly glad to 
see you,” Rosalind replied, kissing her affectionately and 
hastening to remove her damp wraps. 

“Well, you need never give me out when I tell you I 
am coming; I told papa at luncheon that you were sick, 
and I wished to come to Morton Place but the rain had 
prevented me, and he said, kindly, ‘ never mind the rain, 
Camille; I will send you over in the carriage as soon as 
I return, and that will be between four and five o’clock.’ 
And so you see my dear, kind papa was as good as his 
word, and here I am.” 

“And your presence is as revivifying as the sunshine 
breaking through the clouds,” Rosalind replied, heartily. 

“What a pretty speech; but, since I come to think of 
it, 1 have never heard you make any other than pretty 
speeches. You know, Rosa, I am awfully stuck on you — 
I mean, I like you very much; but you know that is the 
way Fred would have put it, and I don’t care who knows 
it. Neither Nettie’s jealousy or Mrs. Porter’s sarcastic 
remarks will ever have the effect of causing me to love 
you less. And now I am just longing for tea to be over 
so we can go to that cozy, old-fashioned room of yours, 
and have a nice little chat all to ourselves.” 


164 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


, It was not a great while before Millie had her wish, for 
while they were talking in this animated strain, the sound 
of Miss Yilinda’s bell for tea fell on their ears. 

“ Well, you have your wish, so far as tea is concerned, 
as there is the bell; and not to keep Aunt Yi waiting, 
we will go in at once. You know how much the dear old 
lady prizes promptness; but remember we must not ap- 
pear in a hurry to leave the table, but wait until she dis- 
misses us by calling in the cats,” instructed Rosalind. 

“How queer,” commented Millie, as they repaired to 
the diningroom. 

“Howdy do, Camille, glad to see you,” said Miss 
Yilinda, extending her hand. 

“I am pretty well, thank you. Miss Yilinda, how are 
you getting on with your neuralgia?” said Millie, going 
near the old lady and speaking loudly. 

“I am poorly, Camille, poorly; it has been a very bad 
day for my head; I have suffered wretchedly. But it 
makes one forget their aches to see you look so fresh and 
bright; youth is delightful, and I like to see all young 
people happy,” said the old lady, smiling kindly on the 
two girls. 

“And how is Polly, has she got neuralgia, too?” asked 
Millie, sotto voce, addressing Rosalind. 

“I don’t know; however, you will soon have the op- 
portunity of hearing from her all about the state of her 
health and various other matters, as she has already com- 
menced to bristle up.” 

Rosalind had scarcely finished speaking, when Polly, 
who had maintained a strict silence for the past ten min- 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


165 


utes, cried out woefully, ‘‘A bad head, a bad head, all 
day a bad head; go to bed, Rosa, go to bed; a bad head, 
a bad head,” she continued, rocking herself and croaking 
dolefully. 

The comical attitude of the bird and the tone of mock 
distress which it had assumed was too much for Millie’s 
risibles, and regardless of her prim surroundings she 
burst into a peal of merry laughter, in which Rosalind 
joined, and Miss Yilinda so far forgot her suffering as to 
smile one of her most genial smiles. 

“It’s too bad of you. Folly, fo be so afflicted,” said 
Millie, as soon as she could control her voice sufficiently 
to speak. “But I must tell you all of a parrot I saw 
while in New Orleans last winter; it belonged to a gen- 
tleman friend of papa’s, who purchased it from a sea cap- 
tain, and with the exception of Polly it was the funniest 
bird I ever saw; it was never silent a moment, for when it 
was not talking it was singing, and you could not go near 
it but what it would swear at you horribly.” 

“What’s that? speak louder, louder, I say,” screamed 
Polly, while she turned herself rapidly about, leaping 
from one swing of her cage to the other, her feathers ruf- 
fled, her eyes snapping angrily, seeming to emit sparks 
of fire. 

Tea was now about over, but agreeable to Rosalind’s 
suggestion the two lingered for a little chat with Miss 
Yilinda before going to Rosalind’s room. 

“Parrots are strange birds, and I am sometimes in- 
clined to believe them a species of human; what do you 
think of them. Miss Yilinda?” said Millie, endeavoring 
to keep up the conversation. 


166 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“I do not think the parrot really more sensible than 
other birds, but from the fact that they have the gift of 
speech every one takes pains to educate them. Their 
sayings are none of them original, and they only repeat 
what they are taught and what people say in their pres- 
ence; Polly, for instance, claims to be very deaf, while 
on the contrary her hearing is very acute.” 

Then Miss Morton arose and called her cats, thus sum- 
marily dismissing the girls, who, taking the hint, also 
arose from the table, and bidding the old lady a pleasant 
good-night repaired at once to Rosalind’s room, which 
looked cheerfully inviting, lighted by a bright wood fire 
that Uncle Peter had kindled for the purpose of driving 
away the dampness. 

“And now for our cozy chat,” Millie exclaimed, en- 
thusiastically, after having given the apartment a glance 
of satisfaction, and perched herself in an old-fashioned 
rocker, while Rosalind sat down upon the Turkish rug at 
her feet. 

“Not until you have descended from that mighty 
throne and sunk to my level can we talk in comfort, ” re- 
plied Rosalind, smiling sweetly up at the pretty girl. 

“I was just thinking of doing so, and here I come.” 
Suiting the action to the word, Millie slid from the chair, 
and nestled down beside her friend in the childish way 
that to Rosalind was charmingly irresistible. And, sitting 
thus in the full glow of the firelight, the two girls were, 
indeed, fair to look upon — Millie, with her sweet blue 
eyes, golden hair, and rosy, pouting lips, represented the 
fairest type of blonde beauty; while Rosalind’s bonny 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


167 


brown locks, dark blue eyes, ^ and intellectual cast of fea- 
tures, made a pretty and agreeable contrast, and it would 
have been a hard matter to decide as to which of the two 
was the most beautiful. 

“Do you know, Kosa, that I have been longing for a 
whole week for this opportune moment to come around? 
And now that it has come, and I have you all to myself, 
I am at a loss to know how to begin to tell you what 1 
have so much desired, and 1 really wish you would guess 
it all, for, as I told you in my note, I have a secret, and 
one that I would not trust to any one but you for the 
world.” 

Having thus far unburdened herself, Millie rested her 
arms upon Rosalind’s knees and looked lovingly into the 
pure sweet face, her rosy blushes appearing even rosier 
than ever, in the flickering glow of the waning flrelight. 

“I am not very good at guessing, Millie, but if you 
feel the least disinclined to tell me, don’t try, for you 
know ’tis said by some old sage, that a secret is a secret 
no longer when once told; therefore, when you have con- 
fided it to me, you will no longer be the sole possessor of 
it.” 

“Well, that is just what I want to do, to share it with 
some one who can sympathize with me, like I feel you 
can; for the truth is, Rosa, I cannot stand it all by my- 
self a day longer; it sticks in my throat and makes my 
heart have all kinds of palpitations. As to you, I have 
no fears whatever that you will betray me, and would not 
be afraid to trust you with my life, as the saying goes; 
so — 


168 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“ ‘My pretty secret’s coming, just listen with your heart, 

And you will hear it humming so close ’twill make you start.’ ” 

The soft soprano tones of the fair girl fell low and flute- 
like on the ear of Kosalind, who sat regarding Millie with 
a look of deepest admiration expressed upon her frank, 
innocent face, at the same time smoothing the lovely 
golden tresses that had strayed about the charmingly 
white forehead, and listening quietly for the pretty secret. 
But scarcely had the little song ceased when tears filled 
the pretty eyes and came splashing down the rosy cheeks, 
and pretty soon great sobs begun to shake the slight 
form. This was altogether a new phase of a girl to Kosa- 
lind and totally inexplicable to her, for she had hereto- 
fore believed Millie to be the very happiest girl she had 
ever known — little thinking that she had ever experienced 
a deeper grief than such as had been awakened by the 
young minister, in regard to the spiritual welfare of her 
father. But things had taken on a different aspect now; 
however, she did not question her, or in any way intrude 
upon her sorrow; instead, she remained silent, and drew 
the golden head more closely still to her bosom, letting 
it rest there until the storm had passed, and Millie sat 
upright. Then, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks, 
she said: ‘‘I know you think me a great goose for cry- 
ing like I have, but I couldn’t help it, Kosa, and since 
it's all over 1 feel a great deal better, and think I can 
talk now. The truth is, my dear girl, I found it harder 
to speak than I had anticipated, for my story is of some- 
thing that has been treasured in my heart for years; and 
then, too, I have such a great favor to ask of you after 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


169 


you have heard me through; but before I commence 1 
want you to promise me that you will never answer any 
questions concerning what I tell you, no matter who puts 
them to you. Will you promise me, Kosa?” 

“On my honor, Millie, I promise never to disclose any- 
thing you tell me; but, as I said before, I would rather 
you would not tell me, if you feel any hesitancy in so 
doing.” 

“Oh, it is not that I am afraid to trust my secret with 
you, but the fear that I am asking too much of you?” re- 
plied Millie interrogatively. 

“You need have no fears on that score, Millie, as it 
would be utterly impossible for me to refuse you anything 
that lies in my power to grant.” 

Ah, fatal, fatal words; little did Rosalind dream of 
what they would cost her in the not far-away future. 

“Well, then, without farther preface, I will say, I’m 
in love! Yes, I, Camille Underwood, daughter of one 
of the proudest men of Kentucky, am hopelessly in love, 
and with whom it is useless to inform you, as I think you 
already know.” 

Rosalind nodded assent, and Millie continued: 

“Well, most every one who observes me closely guesses 
as much, but no one but Mrs. Porter has ever taken me 
to task about it, or as much as hinted the possibility of 
such being the case. This lady, however, in a very sweet 
manner, accused me of it the day after our hay-ride, and 
right in the presence of papa, too, which caused him to 
question me in a very serious manner about the matter. 
Of course I had to deny it, and consequently told him a 
falsehood.” 


170 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


After proceeding this far, Millie drew a long breath 
that had in it the sound of a sob, and went on softly; 

“I can’t just remember how and when it all came 
about — in fact, I have had an affection for Edgar Wilker- 
son ever since I was a wee child, when he would come to 
Ivy Crown to go hunting with Gerry, and, latterly, when 
we attended the same school, and our way lay partly in 
the same direction, and he would wait for me where the 
road united and carry my lunch basket and satchel for 
me. • You see, Kosa, Gerry had gone off to college, and 
Fred was not large enough to go to school, so Edgar al- 
ways acted the part of a brother towards me. His two 
sisters — Kate and Jennie — would never wait for me, for 
neither of them liked me; though I always treated them 
kindly and tried to be friends with them, they called me 
stuck-up and proud, for no other reason in the world than 
because I wore pretty white aprons, and had my hair 
neatly braided every morning. They were never tidy in 
their dress, and often came to school with their hands 
and faces — I verily believe — unwashed.” 

Again Millie paused and looked thoughtfully into the 
smouldering embers, and there was reflected in her face 
a radiant wrapt expression while her thoughts turned 
backward. Again she sees the dear old road that led her 
to and from the school-house which her childish feet 
had so often traversed, and again the handsome face of 
Edgar Wilkerson, watching eagerly for her coming; 
again she feels his warm hand clasp, and again hears the 
sound of his cheery voice while he talked to amuse her, 
or taught her the most difficult lines of the multiplication 
table. 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


171 


‘‘Was I dreaming?” she asked, turning her beautiful 
lovelit face to Rosalind; “well, 1 had gone back to those 
dear old days and was living them over again. Where 
did I leave off? Oh, I remember; I was telling you of 
our school days together; you must know that Edgar was 
at least eight years my senior, and he got along so rap- 
idly in his studies that long before I was sent off to 
boarding school he had gone to college. Rapa and all 
the gentlemen of the neighborhood had become interested 
in Mr. Wilkerson’s son, because he was so bright and his 
people were so illiterate, and they encouraged Mr. Wil- 
kerson in his determination to give Edgar a good educa- 
tion. When he first went away to college he did not 
write to me, and I grieved myself nearly to death be- 
cause I could not hear from him only through Gerry; 
but when he came home on his first vacation it so hap- 
pened that we met often, for Gerry was at home then, 
and as I was only twelve years old of course no one 
thought anything of our frequent conversations or de- 
cided preference for each other’s society. Before he re- 
turned to college 1 asked him to write to me; he hesitated 
for some little time, and then replied by asking if I 
thought papa would be willing for me to correspond 
with him, and 1 answered him truthfully. No, I re- 
plied, he would not; not even if I were grown up he 
would not wish me to correspond with you, Edgar; but 
what is the use of him knowing it? you can address my 
letters to the care of the general delivery and no one will 
ever be any the wiser; the other girls all have their young 
men friends write them, and why shouldn’t I? However, 


172 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


I gained my point, though he had conscientious scruples 
in the matter and was inclined to think he was not acting 
exactly honorable; and so we have been writing to each 
other ever since, secretly, and you are the first, one to 
whom I have ever breathed a word concerning the whole 
affair.” 

Again Millie stopped and looked interrogatively at 
Kosalind, who had not interrupted her once during her 
recital. 

“Go on, I will not tell you what I think about it until 
I have heard you through,” Eosalind said, in reply to the 
mute appeal. “But the cat is out now, and our move- 
ments will be watched more closely in future; in fact, we 
are in a perfect muddle at present, and all through that 
meddlesome piece of perfection, as she believes herself to 
be, Mrs. Porter. But I must tell you how it all came 
about. While at luncheon the other day the subject of 
the Wilkersons came up by Gerald asking if Edgar had 
been over in the morning. Then Mrs. Porter took occa- 
sion to inquire why it was that none of the Wilkerson 
family except Edgar ever came to Ivy Crown. ‘I believe 
you are neighbors, aren’t you?’ she asked, addressing 
papa. ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘but not congenial ones; Ed- 
gar is the only member of the family that we can tolerate. ’ 
‘What a pity,’ she replied, with a little laugh, ‘I had 
about made up my mind that Edgar and Millie would 
make a match of it some day, and now my pretty little 
romance is at an end, for I know you would never con- 
sent to any of your children marrying beneath them, and 
I quite agree with you.’ Of course all eyes were turned 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


173 


upon me, for every one, except Gerry, who had left the 
table, had heard her remarks. Nellie and Nettie both 
giggled, and Henry and Edwin coughed and turned red, 
trying to keep from laughing. As to myself, I felt my 
face turning white and red by turns, and, as Fred says, 
you could have knocked me down with a feather. I, 
however, kept my eyes fixed on my plate and appeared 
deaf to the subject throughout; when I did dare to raise 
them I found papa regarding me seriously. I felt vexed 
enough to cry out, but I knew that feline widow had put 
her silken paws in my affairs for nothing but spite, be- 
cause I did not fall down and worship her as Nellie and 
Nettie pretend to do; and she is mad, too, because I 
think so much of you, for I tell you, Rosa, she is as jeal- 
ous of you as can be, not on my account, but Gerry’s, 
for between you and I she came here with the intention 
of catching him, but judging from his manner towards 
her, he is not going to be taken in by her as easily as she 
had imagined; but I must continue and not make my 
story too long, for fear of wearing out your patience. 
When we were leaving the diningroom papa detained me 
by saying, ‘Camile, remain here a few moments, I wish 
to speak to you alone.’ I tried to compose myself to 
meet the ordeal that I knew was coming, while he sipped 
his wine, and when he offered to fill my glass I allowed 
him to do so without thinking what I was doing. For a 
little while we both sat in perfect silence, papa sipping 
his wine and I trying to pluck up courage to reply to 
whatever question he would ask. At last he said, ‘Mil- 
lie, the little remark Mrs. Porter made at luncheon has 


174 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


put me to thinking, and I wish to ask you if Edgar Wil- 
kerson has ever attempted to make love to you? Tell me 
truly, little daughter,’ he added, drawing his chair nearer 
my own and laying his hand caressingly upon my head 
and smoothing my hair in a fatherly way. ‘Never, papa, ’ 
I replied, with vehemence; and I spoke the truth. Papa 
seemed greatly relieved at my prompt answer, and went 
on to explain that he had never thought of the danger of 
anything of this kind coming up between the two families; 
in fact, he still regarded me as a child, but Mrs. Porter’s 
words having thrown a different light on the matter was 
why he had questioned me. Then he went on to say that he 
could never think of such a mesalliance in his family, and 
wound up by requesting me to have as little to say to 
Edgar Wilkerson as possible, and not to encourage his 
attentions; for though he respected his efforts in trying to 
make something of himself, the fact that his family were 
only parvenues still remained patent. And then he asked 
me to promise him that I would have but little to say to 
him when he came to Ivy Crown. I felt angry enough 
to say the most horrid things of that scheming widow, 
but I had to bite my lips and keep silent, for papa and 
Hetty think her an angel of perfection, and I dared not 
express myself. Now, Kosalind, you have heard the 
whole of my secret, and now comes the test of your 
friendship,” Millie went on with that irresistible smile 
and winning grace which would have appealed to a less 
tender heart even than Rosalind’s. 

“Well, it is this I wish to ask of you, and 1 do hope 
you won’t allow any conscientious scruples to interfere. 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


175 


for it is of vast import to me and my future. As you are 
aware, under the circumstances I will have to be very 
distant toward Edgar, and on my p’s and q’s all the time; 
and you will have to come to my assistance in the matter 
by making him understand just how I am situated, and 
being the bearer of a letter to him. Do you consent to 
this, or is the test too great to be practical? ” 

For a few moments Rosalind remained silent, trying to 
decide within her own mind what would be the best course 
to pursue, and, while her friendship and love for this girl 
was unbounded, and she felt she was willing to make any 
personal sacrifice to add to her happiness, still her own 
consciousness of right and wrong told her she should not 
encourage Millie in practicing deception with her dear 
and honored father. The code of Rosalind’s moral princi- 
ples were averse to what Millie required at her hands; 
but, what was to be done? It was evident that Millie 
took a different view of the matter altogether, fully ex- 
pecting Rosalind to co-operate in her behalf. 

“You ought to know, Millie, that I would be willing 
to do anything you should ask of me which would add to 
your happiness and well-being, but in this case, dear, I 
must admit I have conscientious scruples, and I think I 
would be doing you a positive injustice by lending my 
aid in deceiving your dear, kind father. Think of it, 
Millie, and ask your own heart if you would not be per- 
petrating a wrong that would eventually cause you suffer- 
ing.” 

“I have thought of it all, Rosalind, and in obedience 
to papa’s wishes have tried to give Edgar up, but I find 


176 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


it impossible. Of course, I am too young to marry Edgar, 
and were I to do so I would have to elope, for which papa 
would never forgive me, or even speak to me again; but, 
unless 1 can find some way of communicating with him, 
and at the same time keep down suspicion, I am afraid I 
will do something desperate.” 

Again the blue eyes were swimming in tears as they 
were turned in sorrowful reproach upon Rosalind, who, 
unable longer to resist Millie’s argument and pitiful, 
pleading look, gave a reluctant consent to become the 
mediator between the two, little thinking that it would 
serve in the future to involve her in the most inscrutible 
mystery and steep her fair name in the direst calumny. 

“You are the very dearest girl living to so kindly 
promise to aid me, when it is in a matter so far removed 
from your principles; but rest assured, let what will come 
of it, no blame shall ever fall on you,” said Millie, kiss- 
ing Rosalind affectionately and smiling upon her bewitch- 
ingly. And Rosalind, thinking that by giving this prom- 
ise to Millie, she had doubtless saved the impetuous child 
from committing some rash act — no longer experienced 
such compunction of conscience; little dreaming of the 
web of deception and suspicion she was all unawares 
weaving about herself, or how, through this fatal promise, 
she would become the victim of the merciless, scheming 
widow, whose one great aim in life was to again bring 
Gerald Underwood to her feet, and that to accomplish 
this fixed purpose her first undertaking would be to de- 
throne her acknowledged and hated rival, Rosalind Mor- 
ton. 


MILLIE’S SECRET. 


177 


And while the two girls sat there in the gloaming, and 
watched the shadows — made by the dying firelight — 
deepen, and listened to the pattering raindrops and the 
sighing of the wind without, not one ominous token of 
what was to come did those dismal sounds portend. 
Happily for them, they could not raise the mystic veil, 
and, all unconscious of the vortex of sorrow into which 
they would ere long be plunged, a blissful content seemed 
to have settled upon their spirits; for truly, youth, with 
its buoyant hopes and radiant colorings, can be likened 
unto a soft summer day, which, while the sun shines, 
gives no token of the storm-cloud that lies in the back- 
ground — appearing at first so small as to scarcely be per- 
ceptible, but gathering so rapidly that, before one is aware 
of it, the whole heavens are overcast — and such is life! 


12 


CHAPTER XII. 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 

F or some days after ]\]illie’s visit to Morton Place the 
weather continued rainy. Consequently, Miss Yilinda’s 
neuralgia did not improve, and as Rosalind continued in 
close attendance upon her aunt, her outings were few. 
But, as the weather begun to clear up and summer to as- 
sert itself, the old lady gradually grew better, and, fearing 
the confinement would tell on the health of her niece, in- 
sisted that she would go out for the fresh air, and Rosalind 
had gladly assented, for these dismal wet days had not 
been without their unpleasant effect upon her; and between 
her aunt’s sufferings and Polly’s repeated lamentations 
over her bad head, the situation, to say the least, had been 
a trying one; hence it had been delightful to her to again 
see the sun shining and hear the birds singing. Nature 
was her inspirer, her exceeding great joy. Then, too, it so 
happened that on the occasion of many of her walks she 
had met Gerald, who made it convenient to extend his, in 
the direction she was going, talking to her all the time in 
that friendly, social manner, that put her so much at her 
ease, and left such pleasant memories in her mind, and 
caused her heart to vibrate with such happy emotions. 
In spite of all her book knowledge and classical lore, 
Rosalind was of an unspoiled nature, and experienced as 
great a delight in the true enjoyments of life as a little 
child. To those higher, purer joys, her soul was wedded, 

178 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


179 


and when she again saw the beautiful landscape stretched 
out, all bathed in the lovely glow, and the deep blue arch 
of heaven above her, and again felt the soft green grass 
beneath her feet, she felt as if she could clap her hands 
and shout aloud for very joy. In the innocence and pure 
disinterestedness of her nature, she made no plans for the 
future, for this delightful phase of existence was in itself 
complete, the most charming feature of which was her 
association with the inmates of Ivy Crown. Furthermore, 
she realized that her ideal of a true and noble man was 
fully realized in Gerald, and much of her happiness de- 
pended on the knowledge that he was near her. 

And thus the time glided sweetly and harmoniously by, 
bringing to Rosalind another unlooked-for event in her 
life. It was just one week from Millie’s visit to Rosa- 
lind when a note of invitation came to Morton Place, the 
Underwood carriage accompanying it, which ran in this 
wise: 

“My Dearest Rosa — I send the carriage over for you 
this afternoon, and will take no excuse; so you must not 
offer any, but come at once. Tell Miss Yilinda that the 
time I will have you remain is yet unfixed, hence she 
need not expect you at any definite period.” 

And notwithstanding that Rosalind had received such 
a fright at the time of her last visit to Ivy Crown, she 
felt perfectly overjoyed at the thought of again roaming 
among the beauties of this apparently spectre-haunted 
home, for in anticipation of Millie’s smiling welcome and 
Gerald’s kindly words of greeting all unpleasant memo- 
ries of her previous encounters with the ungainly and 


180 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


mysterious creature were swept away, and after gaining 
her Aunt Yilinda’s consent to her going, she went about 
her preparations with childish eagerness. 

Selecting from her wardrobe a pretty muslin, flowered 
with pale sprigs of heliotrope, with soft laces falling 
about the neck and sleeves, and tying about her delicate 
waist a dark blue sash, the exact shade of her eyes, her 
simple but becoming toilette was soon complete. 

The high stepping, spirited horses were not long in 
conveying her to Ivy Crown, and it was with the happi- 
est and lightest heart that she hailed her near approach. 

On the terrace Millie was awaiting her, who, after 
greeting her affectionately, said, “Everybody on the 
place but grandmamma and I are at the tennis grounds, and 
as Gerry is one of the players they are no doubt having 
a fine game; would you like to go down and see the 
game out?” 

“I would, indeed; shall we start now?” 

“Not for a little while yet; to tell the truth, Rosa, I 
was expecting Edgar to come by before 1 left the house, 
but it seems as if he is not going to put in an appearance 
after all.” 

A look of disappointment crossed the pretty piquant 
face of the girl while she spoke, and a little sigh escaped 
her, which Rosalind did not fail to observe. 

After lingering a few moments the two made their way 
to the tennis grounds. Millie chatting gayly as they 
sauntered slowly along, but not again referring to Edgar 
Wilkerson. Upon arriving at their place of destination 
the game had so nearly ended as to leave only Mrs. For- 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


181 


ter and Gerald in the field of contest. Both were skilled 
players, and as the combat continued the interest grew 
intense. The question as to who would be the winner 
was a puzzling one, indeed. However, it came to an end 
at last, Mrs. Porter coming off victorious; whereupon 
she was greeted with loud shouts of applause by the gen- 
tlemen, while the ladies seemed more inclined to regret 
Gerald’s defeat. As to the pretty widow, she had never ap- 
peared to greater advantage than upon this occasion. Her 
tennis suit, a perfection of art, sat jauntily and becomingly 
upon her well developed figure, while a fiush of unusual 
brilliancy suffused her cheeks, adding lustre to her lovely 
brown eyes and a new charm to her fair face. Aware of 
the admiration she had excited, not alone through her 
proficiency in the art of lawn tennis, but the effect of her 
bewildering beauty, she continued the graceful pose she 
had assumed; swinging her racket in one white jeweled 
hand and lazily fanning herself with the other, she ac- 
knowledged the ringing plaudits of the masculines with 
dainty little inclinations of her well-poised head, accom- 
panied by the very sweetest smile. 

Rosalind was perfectly obvious of the exceeding charms 
that possessed the widow, and felt completely fascinated 
while observing her beauty and elegance. She recognized 
the fact also that she was of a different creation from 
herself, having been nurtured by the flattery and adula- 
tion of the world; a woman, too, who was fully conscious 
of the power and influence she could wield over men, 
while on the other hand Rosalind was as ignorant of such 
arts as an infant, whose personal endowments were due 


182 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


alone to her natural beauty and cultured mind. While 
she stood there looking admiringly at the pretty woman, 
her reverie was put to an end by Gerald’s sudden appear- 
ance; having come up in the rear of where Millie and 
herself were standing, she was not aware of his close 
proximity until his pleasant voice sounded on her ear. A 
flush overspread the lovely face of the girl while she re- 
plied to his greeting, and in spite of her effort to appear 
calm, her hand trembled visibly when Gerald clasped it. 

“What in the world did you let Mrs. Porter beat you 
for?” asked Millie, as soon as he had passed the compli- 
ments of the day with Kosalind. 

“Well, little girl, to answer your question I have only 
to ask another; tell me pray how was I to avoid getting 
beaten? I did my best at playing, and now when I come 
here under the shadow of your wing for sympathy, it 
seems that I am to receive censure instead,” he replied, 
in a tone of mock gravity, seating himself beside the 
two girls. 

Before Millie could reply Gerald turned to Rosalind 
and continued the subject by saying, “However, since 
Millie fails to condole with me, I hope that you. Miss 
Morton, will at least have a word of comfort to offer.” 

“Why certainly, Mr. Underwood, I do not think you 
need despair, and truly hope that your next attempt at 
lawn tennis will be a more successful one,” Rosalind re- 
plied, assuming the same tone of semi-seriousness that 
Gerald had employed. 

“Thank you; that sounds comforting, indeed, and 1 
very much appreciate your sympathy. Millie is a very 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


183 


good little sister, but always manages to say the wrong 
thing to soothe. ” 

“But I have known gentlemen who were so gallant 
that they would not allow themselves to win a game, even 
when all the chances were in their favor, if their opponent 
happened to be a lady,” asserted Kosalind, with a mis- 
chievous smile. 

At this unexpected, but pointed raillery, Gerald ap- 
peared somewhat disconcerted, but, after a few minutes 
silence, said; 

“You understand lawn tennis, I believe. Miss Morton ? ” 

“Yes, I believe I do, though I never saw it played 
before, but to amuse me, papa taught me the rudiments 
of the game, and would often play it with me at the par- 
sonage,” Rosalind explained, in her straightforward man- 
ner. And it was plain to Gerald that Rosalind under- 
stood how it had happened that Mrs. Porter had come off 
victorious. Her quick intelligence had readily detected 
the little ruse he had practiced in giving her the oppor- 
tunity of winning; but she was not aware that this had 
been done, not so much through a sense of gallantry as 
for the purpose of terminating the game as speedily as 
possible, that he might seek her out. Rosalind was not 
vain enough to interpret his actions in this wise, and, in 
the innocence of her heart, believed that he being the 
loser, was alone due to his chivalrous nature. 

“I wish Gerry would go and talk to some of the others, 
for I want you all to myself this afternoon,” whispered 
Millie, as she sat clasping and reclasping Rosalind’s hand; 
but ere Gerald could divine that he had become detrop in 


184 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the charming society of these two, a carriage was seen 
approaching. It was a handsome equipage, driven by 
a coachman in livery and at once attracted the atten- 
tion of the company, causing them to look curious as the 
vehicle drew near. Rosalind, too, felt some curiosity re- 
garding the new comers, but did not inquire who they 
were. They were all just in the act of starting from the 
tennis ground, and Judge Underwood — who had been an 
interested spectator during the game — went forward to 
meet the visitors, taking a seat in their carriage to escort 
them to the house. 

‘‘Goodness gracious !” exclaimed Fred, coming up to 
the trio; “if it ain’t the masher.” But, receiving a look 
of reprimand from Gerald, he did not venture another 
syllable. 

“That is Mr. and Mrs. Norton, who reside in the 
neighborhood,” explained Gerald. “Have you ever met 
them?” he asked, addressing Rosalind. 

“No, I believe not; Aunt Yilinda doesn’t visit much; 
consequently she receives but few visitors.” 

“Well, you needn’t want to meet her, for she is about 
the queerest bird I ever happened to run across, and most 
dreadfully stuck on herself,” said Millie to Rosalind, 
sotto voce. 

By this time the party had about reached the house, 
and Judge Underwood had assisted the lady to alight, and 
was ushering her in the midst of the other guests, after 
the true style of a Kentuckian, introducing them in his 
most hospitable manner. As the new guest came in full 
view, Rosalind mentally agreed with Millie in regard to 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


185 


the lady being a queer bird, for she certainly appeared an 
oddity, indeed! A faded, washed-out blonde, of diminu- 
tive size and uncertain age, whose attempt at artificial 
make-up and girlishness of attire, made her an object of 
comment and ridicule, this was the vision that dawned 
upon the curious company. However, she was far from 
being abashed upon meeting the amused glances that were 
leveled at her; on the other hand, she was perfectly self- 
confident, and wore with the greatest complacency the 
adjustable smile she had put on for this special occasion, 
while, in a loud, shrill voice, she acknowledged the intro- 
ductions of her host. Norton was a good-looking young 
man, who appeared ten years his wife’s junior, and 
was as much embarrassed and at a loss for words as she 
was self-assured and voluble — growing redder in the face 
at each moment, and pulling nervously at his gloves as 
the Judge proceeded with the introductions. It was but 
too evident that, in spite of the pains Judge Underwood 
was taking to impress upon all present that the new ar- 
rivals were in every way worthy of their consideration, it 
was no easy matter for them to stifle their amusement 
and act with proper civility, for Mrs. Norton’s self-conceit 
and effusiveness of manner appeared more ridiculous still, 
when compared with the awkwardness of her husband. 
But good mannas and good policy at last prevailed, and 
all assumed an air of respectful attention, while the loqua- 
cious woman continued to call the notice of the rest of 
the company to herself individually. 

“How is your mother. Judge?” she questioned, with 
one of her most catching glances; then, without waiting 


186 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


to hear the pleasant response, she went on: “Don’t you 
know that it took a lot of coaxing to get Tom to bring me 
over here? You see, Judge, he thinks because your 
mother is an old lady, and your daughters are young 
ladies, that it don’t suit for me to come here, as if I 
weren’t young, too; and I tell him if I am married I feel 
jusc as young as any of the single ones, and like young 
folks’ company just as well as ever I did. But Tom is so 
different from me, and expects me to settle down into an 
old sober-sides like himself, but catch me doing it;” and 
Mrs. Norton, after thus delivering her matrimonial views, 
stopped to draw breath, and looked pathetically around 
to find the sympathy, in which she believed she stood so 
much in need, expressed upon some face among the mas- 
culines. 

“Certainly, certainly! ” agreed the Judge, hardly know- 
ing how to answer her appeal. 

Edwin Townsend, seeing that Judge Underwood had 
not given her a satisfactory reply, at this moment came to 
the rescue by saying, in a tone intended to sound serious: 

“Why, how could Norton expect any one, so charm- 
ingly young as yourself, to settle down in that kind of 
fashion ? I’m surprised at him. It does seem that he 
ought to know that it would be perfectly impossible for 
you to do so at your tender age.” 

“It does, indeed,” reiterated Henry Courts, assuming 
a grave countenance. 

At this unexpected intercession on the part of the cadets 
every one but poor Norton were almost dying to laugh. 
Mrs. Norton, however, was delighted at having thus far 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


187 


succeeded in making such favorable impressions upon the 
gentlemen, and, feeling convinced within her own mind 
that the young ladies were frantic with jealousy, became 
more self-possessed at each moment. Ere long Norton, 
seeming unable to bear the strain upon his nerves longer, 
proposed going, and this opened the way for his wife to 
begin with her profuse invitations. 

All the ladies except Hetty attempted to make her 
a civil answer, promising to return her visit if possible; 
but just as she turned to Hetty for the purpose of invit- 
ing her also, Gerald interrupted the lady by saying, “I 
am afraid we will none of us have the pleasure of 
coming over, from the fact that we are leaving here in 
about a week or ten days; however, we will not be absent 
longer than a month, and upon our return will remember 
to repay your visit.” 

“Is that so? and where in the world are you going 
now?” asked the visitor, her shrill tones expressive of 
much curiosity. 

“We will go direct to Niagara Falls, I think, madam, 
at which point we will decide where we will further ex- 
tend our tour.” 

“Well, I only wish I had known about you going there 
sooner; I always wanted to see them falls, and have 
teased Tom not a little to take me there, but he never 
would.” 

“We would have been truly delighted to have had 
yourself and husband to accompany us, and I am indeed 
sorry it is too late to urge you to do so,” interposed Ed- 
win, in a tone of regret, the reward of which was one of 


188 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the lady’s most beaming glances, at the same time say- 
ing, impressively, “1 am so much obliged to you all, but 
it’s too late, for I couldn’t get ready to make the trip 
shorter than two weeks’ time; but maybe we will come 
yet before you all leave; I think Tom ought to take me 
somewhere; he was dead set on marrying me, and now 
he never wants me to go anywhere at all; I tell him he’s 
afraid I will see somebody better looking than he is and 
fall in love with them is the reason why he wants me to 
stay at home all the time; men are so jealous, you know. ” 

During this disgusting speech of Mrs. Norton’s the 
husband kept his eyes fixed upon the ground, shifting 
his position every few minutes uneasily, in the mean- 
while drawing out his pocket handkerchief and mopping 
the perspiration from his brow for the twentieth time at 
least. He seemed much relieved, however, when she at 
last ended her remarks and moved towards her carriage. 

‘‘Don’t be surprised if you see us up there,” she called 
back as they were starting off, while she smiled her adieus 
upon the two cadets, and then the coupe passed down 
the broad avenue of pines and was soon lost to view. 

No doubt many would have been the comments that 
followed this unprepossessing twain had it not been such 
pronounced and extremely bad taste; hence for some lit- 
tle while after the departure of the couple nothing was 
said about them. And then it was Hetty, whose lips had 
been curled in the most exquisite scorn during the whole 
time of the Nortons’ stay, who broke the silence by say- 
ing, tartly: 

“I shall never cease to wonder what law requires that 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


189 


such as that woman should be tolerated, or in other 
words, why it becomes necessary for what is termed good 
society to receive such shoddy people on an equal foot- 
ing; papa, did you invite the Nortons here?” 

“I suppose I must plead guilty, Henrietta, I did; and 
since I have given offense by so doing, I will now offer 
an apology; I went over to see Norton, not long since, 
on a matter of business his father had entrusted to my 
care, and it so happened that I was detained until their 
high-noon dinner, hence I could not do otherwise than 
acceptof their hospitality; under these circumstances what 
could I do but ask them over? Besides, Henrietta, 
Tom’s father is one of my best friends, and as far as the 
family is concerned, there is no bluer blood in Kentucky 
than that of the Norton’s. But truly misfortunes some- 
times happen in the best of families, and such it was 
with this one; would you believe it that the father of that 
great clumsy looking fellow is one of the brightest men 
belonging to our section of country?” continued the Judge, 
addressing himself to the company. “But unfortunately 
for him, as well as the son, there has been a mesalliance, 
which fact has no doubt already occurred to you all be- 
fore this; and it came about in this wise: Tom was sent 
to Philadelphia to college, for the old man tried every 
means possible to make something out of him, he being 
his only son, and heir to his large estate. While there, 
however, he boarded with a widow, who had a daughter, 
and the poor fellow was too weak to resist the cunning of 
the two women, consequently became their victim. But 
the poor fellow is more to be pitied than blamed in this 


190 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


case, as he was always of a timid nature and not overly 
bright. This marriage proved a great blow to the father, 
and caused him to think seriously of disinheriting his 
son, but upon further consideration he turned over the 
old homestead to Tom, and placed a large bank account 
at his disposal. Then, completely disheartened and thor- 
oughly disgusted, he settled up his business and went 
abroad. But this is only one example out of a hundred 
thousand of the ill results of a mesalliance.” 

Then, as if wishing to dismiss the subject altogether, 
Judge Underwood lighted a cigar and relapsed into silence. 
The afternoon was waning, but still the golden sunlight, 
the endless columns of green trees, and great patches 
of roses, leaf and blossom seemed smiling in the 
warmth and glory of the eventide radiance. They had 
all continued to sit under the shade of the gigantic old 
trees, since their return from the tennis grounds, enjoy- 
ing the balmy stillness and peaceful beauty that en- 
shrouded them. Only Millie and Rosalind had wandered 
away, and now the two had become lost to view by the 
intervening shrubbery. 

“It was so good of you to come,” said Millie, placing 
her arms about Rosalind as soon as they were out of sight 
of the others and giving her an affectionate kiss. “You 
see, we are all going to ‘Niagara Falls, and some other 
places, perhaps, to be absent about a month, I believe, 
and papa instructed me this morning to invite you to 
make one of the party; our dressmaker is here from 
Louisville, and she can have any orders filled for you 
that would be necessary, so you see you could get 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


191 


ready on short notice; she takes our measure and a note 
of what W3 want, and puts a dozen to work on them, con- 
sequently they are returned to us in a week or ten days 
after she has been here; but I have told you enough 
about the arrangements, and now I want to know if you 
think you can go? ” 

‘‘I should enjoy it above all things, but 1 cannot say 
until I have seen Aunt Yilinda about it; when do you 
expect to start?” 

“Some time in about two weeks; we haven’t decided 
upon the day yet, tho’ Gerry gave Mrs. Norton to under- 
stand we would go much sooner, fearing she would pro- 
pose to go With us. Talk about cheek!” 

“I am sorry for her, Millie, she seems so ignorant.” 

“Well, in her case ignorance is certainly bliss, so you 
need not waste your pity upon her, for, as papa would 
say, it is like casting pearls before swine; but that is not 
all I have to tell you, so listen for something that lies 
near my heart. Edgar is coming here this evening; in 
fact, he ought to have been here some hours ago, for 
Gerry left word that he should come on down to the ten- 
nis grounds, so I know Gerry had his promise to come, 
and I am therefore still expecting him. I have scarcely 
had a chance to speak to him since I saw you, and if he 
comes over this evening I want you to give him this,” 
Millie said, slipping a delicately tinted missive in Kosa- 
lind’s hand. “We will all go out for a walk after dinner, 
and I will manage to throw you and him together.” 

Rosalind took the letter, and after observing its bulky 
appearance concealed it in the bosom of her dress. 


192 


ROSALIND MORTON* 


“It is an enormous size, I know,’^ explained Millie, 
“but not half as much as I would like to have said to 
him. Bj the way, did you hear what papa said about a 
mesalliance?” asked Millie, abruptly. 

“Yes, I heard him; he seems to think that no good 
ever results from an unequal marriage, and I think you 
should be guided by his better judgment.” 

Millie sighed, then assuming a bantering tone, said: 

“But I must not let you lecture me this evening, nor 
tell me my duty toward papa; I know too well what it is, 
but in this case love is stronger than reason, and so it 
would be a useless task.” 

Before Rosalind could form a reply horses^ hoofs were 
heard coming up the drive, and through the boughs of 
evergreen they saw Edgar Wilkerson ride up to the house 
and alight. 

In a moment Millie’s face was aglow with smiles and 
bright blushes, and her voice was tremulous with emotion 
when she said: 

“We will not go in just yet, but continue our walk; 
Gerry is there to receive Edgar, and papa is there also, 
and that argus-eyed widow is there, too, whom papa and 
Hetty think so perfect, and who is trying her level best 
to get Gerry stuck on her; oh, there it is again, and I do 
hope you will excuse me for using that horrid slang, at 
least Gerry thinks it so, but as far as I am concerned I 
find it very convenient, though I promised him to break 
myself of it.” 

“Certainly, Millie, I excuse you, but you ought indeed 
to break yourself of a habit so displeasing to your broth- 
er,” Rosalind said, kindly. 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


193 


And now the sultry July day, that had been so full of 
ovely lights and shadows, was closing over Ivy Crown — 
in the west could be seen the beautiful sapphire glow of 
a summer sunset that the many windows of the old man- 
sion caught up and reflected in dazzling effect, throwing 
long, slanting rays of gold athwart the magniflcent, out- 
stretching grounds, and making them appear like undu- 
lating waves of billowy green. Upon the windless air was 
borne the perfume of many rare flowering plants, while 
no sound, save the musical flow of the fountains, broke 
the quiet that reigned supreme. Away in the distance, 
sunk deep in clover sweet, could be seen the cows coming 
lazily homeward. For some moments the two girls stood 
with clasped hands, gazing upon the grandeur and beauty 
that lay before them; then, almost simultaneously ex- 
claimed, “ How beautiful. ” 

“Yes, gloriously beautiful,” Kosalind repeated, en- 
thusiastically. “What a happy girl you ought to be, 
Millie, with your many friends and lovely home and sur- 
roundings. In all my life I have never known any girl 
so perfectly blessed as yourself,” said Rosalind, as they 
walked slowly homeward. 

“Well, I suppose I am about as happy as the most of 
people, especially when you are here with me, and some- 
body else not far away. Of course you know of whom I 
am speaking,” returned the spoiled child, gayly. 

On reaching the house they found all the family and 
guests assembled in the diningroom, and every one pres- 
ent appeared in the best of spirits. Gerald came for- 
ward to meet them, and conducted them to seats at the 


13 


194 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


table, sitting between them, and directing his conver- 
sation to both at the same time. Mrs. Porter sat op- 
posite the trio, and from under her long lashes was 
keenly observant of what was going on. The many little 
attentions Gerald bestowed upon Kosalind caused her to 
suffer renewed qualms of jealousy of the most intense 
order; but she had too much tact to betray her feelings, 
and, knowing, too, that it would only be by dint of 
friendliness towards Kosalind that she would be able to 
retain Gerald’s good will, the skilled diplomatist smiled 
sweetly upon her rival and expressed her pleasure at again 
seeing her at Ivy Crown. In spite of the growing dis- 
like of the widow for Rosalind, she could not avoid study- 
ing the lovely girl on every occasion of their meeting. 
This was done with a view of finding faults, which a less 
critical observer than herself would have perhaps failed 
to discover. Having learned through Millie that she had 
been brought up in a village parsonage, Mrs. Porter ex- 
pected — aye, hoped — to find a certain awkwardness and 
lack of knowledge — especially pertaining to the niceties 
and formalities of table etiquette did she think to find her 
remiss; instead, however, she found her not deficient in 
any of these things, and moreover, particularly easy and 
graceful in every movement. It was most incompre- 
hensible to the woman, who had, all her life, been study- 
ing these little arts and devices, which add so much to 
the charms of woman, how it was possible for one who 
had no practical knowledge of the conventionalities of 
society, to so readily adapt herself to such. Mrs. Porter 
had not learned the simple fact that good manners are 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


195 


born of good blood and good breeding, and that all the 
conventional garnish in the world could not add one iota 
of charm to a pure minded cultured girl. Thus it was 
that Rosalind was as enigmatical to the fine lady as she 
was problematical to the orphan. 

The evening in question was far too warm for the party 
to linger long over the dinner table, hence as soon as it 
was possible, after the many different courses had been 
served, every one quitted the table and sought the open 
air — the ladies grouping themselves upon the terrace, 
laughed and talked nonsense, and appeared very pleased 
and happy, while the gentlemen scattered promiscuously 
about. A full moon had risen, and was diffusing a sweet 
mellow light over the fiowers, fountains, and marble 
statuary, which, in the shifting moonbeams, gleamed like 
supernal spirits. The forest beyond lay in cool, dense 
shadow, and the air was fragrant with verdure and bloom. 

‘‘What a lovely evening,” said Gerald, approaching 
the group, accompanied by Edgar Wilkerson. 

“Yes, indeed! far too lovely to remain indoors, hence 
we have all come out to enjoy its beauty,” said Mrs. 
Porter, with a bewitching smile. 

‘ ‘ And why didn’t you say, ‘ to take a moonlight stroll V ” 
put in Millie; then playfully added, “Why don’t some of 
you gallant young men offer to escort the ladies for a 
walk?” 

“I see no reason why, unless it is that we are all too 
timid,” said Edwin Townsend, who had joined the party 
in time to hear Millie’s remark, at the same time offering 
Nellie his arm. 


196 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Upon this Henry Courts turned about to look for Net- 
tie, and seeing that she and Millie had linked arms, he 
begged to escort them both. Hetty asked to be excused, 
and returned to the parlor with the Hon. Mr. Barton, 
for the purpose of playing a new opera. Gerald was in 
the act of proffering his services to Rosalind, but seeing 
her moving away with Edgar Wilkerson, and that Mrs. 
Porter was without an escort, there was nothing else for 
him to do but to offer her his arm. 

And so it was that they were all paired off, Nellie 
looking unutterably content hanging upon the arm of 
young Townsend, while Millie and Nettie were endeavor- 
ing, with all their powers of fascination, to keep Hen- 
ry’s eyes from wandering in the direction of the pretty 
coquette. 

Rosalind, knowing full well why Millie had suggested 
the walk, engaged Edgar’s attention at once, who, on 
seeing Millie in company with Henry, asked that he 
might accompany her. 

The situation was not only unpleasant, but embarrassing 
in the greatest degree to Rosalind, but wishing to accom- 
plish her mission as quickly as possible and thereby re- 
lieve her miud of the disagreeable obligation she had 
taken upon herself, she picked up courage and as soon as 
they had passed out of hearing of the others, said: 

“Let us go to the little rose bower at the terminus of 
the walk, I have a message for you, Mr. Wilkerson.” 

It seemed that the young man divined who the message 
was from, for a pleased smile played about his lips and 
an eager expectant glance darted from his handsome dark 
eyes upon receiving this assurance. 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


197 


As soon as the two reached the place designated Rosa- 
lind handed him the letter, and noted that he received it 
with as much eagerness as a child would display upon be- 
ing the recipient of a new toy, then hastened to the 
entrance way, where by the light of the moon he could 
peruse its precious contents. 

While Edgar was thus engaged Rosalind sat down upon 
the rustic seat within, and through some unknown cause 
a great weight at her heart was oppressing her. Then 
she fell to pondering over the part she was playing in 
this affaire d’ amour, and told herself that she should not 
have yielded to Millie’s wishes, tho’ it severed their 
friendship by refusing to comply; better that than to feel 
that she was encouraging her to disobey her father. 

Thus she was soliloquizing when Edgar approached 
her; extending his hand, he said, earnestly: 

‘‘Allow me to thank you, Miss Morton, for undertak- 
ing such a hazardous task as being the bearer of com- 
munications of this kind between 3jjllie and myself; but 
I fear it is not exactly honorable in me to accept this 
method, for no matter how much pleasure it would afford 
me to receive these very dear little tokens of her regard, 
the thought that she might be laying herself liable to her 
father’s anger, and that you, too, may be compromised, 
would be the source of much anxiety to me, hence I am 
at a loss what to do, or how to advise Millie, and would 
be glad to have your views on the subject?” 

“I really do not know how to advise you, Mr. Wilker- 
son, and it seems that Millie does not wish to listen to 
reason, but chooses to go her own way, but you should 


198 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


consider her interest in the matter and tell her how wrong 
it is to go contrary to her father’s wishes. But as far as 
1 am concerned I am not afraid of being compromised.” 

“I am indeed grateful for what you have so generously 
done for me,” returned Edgar, “and hope you will not 
cherish any conscientious scruples about the matter, for 
you know it is said that everything is fair in love and 
war.” 

Before Kosalind could reply, a low, musical laugh 
floated to them, and the forms of Mrs. Porter and Gerald 
passed from out of the shadow of the rustic bower into the 
moonlight. So earnestly had the two been speaking that 
they had failed to observe the approaching parties, and 
were totally unprepared for their sudden appearance upon 
the scene. Without being aware of his own actions, 
Edgar had continued to hold Kosalind’s hand while he 
spoke, and his tones had in them an emotional depth 
which might have been termed lover-like. Mrs. Porter 
had intuitively foreseen what, Millie’s object was — to 
throw Kosalind and Edgar'together, and had watched to 
see what direction they had taken, having intentionally 
drawn Gerald towards the spot, and, though this unex 
pected encounter appeared to him as purely accidental on 
the part of Mrs. Porter, as to himself, it was not so; for 
with her it had been a ruse to aid her in dethroning Rosa- 
lind in Gerald’s estimation, which had proved successful 
beyond her most sanguine hopes. It seemed that fate had 
indeed played into the widow’s hands, for truly nothing 
could have better served her purpose than flnding the two 
in the position that she had. Of course she understood 


NEW COMPLICATIONS. 


199 


the situation, and could easily decipher that Millie was the 
subject of their earnest discussion, but Gerald had not 
the least idea of what was going on, or that Millie had 
ever given Edgar Wilkerson a thought. So Mrs. Porter 
had all unexpectedly obtained a clew, and now had only 
to follow it up. Appearances on this evening had shown 
Rosalind and Edgar to Gerald in the light of lovers, and 
now everything with her was comme il faut. 

“There, didn’t I just tell you this was a night for 
lovers, and what could have more truly verified my words 
than the scene we have just witnessed? ” she asked, in a 
tone of banter. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE FETE. 

F or some moments after having witnessed this scene — 
which to the most indifferent looker-on would have 
appeared lover like — Gerald was speechless with wonder- 
ment. He could hardly believe what he had seen was 
real, and thought he must be laboring under some optical 
delusion. But Mrs. Porter’s light remark recalled him 
to the fact that what he had seen was a startling reality. 
“I’m sorry for this seeming intrusion,” he muttered, 
more to himself than to his companion; then he felt that 
he must get away from the sight of the spot as quickly as 
possible, and he hurried along, regardless of the fact that 
Mrs. Porter was clinging to his arm, and he was taking 
such long strides as to render her unable to keep pace 
with him. Upon reaching the house he pulled nervously 
at his watch as soon as they had entered the hallway, 
and stammered some excuse about something that he was 
compelled to do, then bid the lady goodnight, and hastily 
sought his room. Once within its sacred walls, he threw 
himself in a chair and tried to think and reason and thus 
recover from his agitation. ‘‘What does it mean?” he 
asked himself time and again, “that this girl, whom he 
had learned to regard as a paragon of goodness and 
purity, should be meeting Edgar Wilkerson at Ivy 
Crown. Is it for the purpose of hearing his avowals of 
love that brings her here?” Such it appeared truly, 
200 


THE FETE. 


201 


judging from what he had so accidentally seen and over- 
heard. This much had fallen distinctly upon his ear: 

“ ‘I fear it is not really honorable in me to accept this 
method,”’ Edgar had said, and then added something 
about compromising her. And Kosalind had answered 
that she was not afrad of being compromised, after hav- 
ing said something else in a lower tone, to which Edgar 
had replied, ‘‘‘that everything was fair in love and 
war. ’ ” 

All this had fallen upon Gerald’s ear while engaged in 
disentangling Mrs. Porter’s skirts from a tenacious rose- 
bush with which they had come in contact. 

Again the scene arose before him: the pretty little 
bower, fragrant with the climbing roses; the moonlight 
radiance falling upon Rosalind, who appeared almost ethe- 
real, clad in the delicate muslin, with her pure, pale profile 
turned towards him, while she looked up at Edgar Wil- 
kerson and replied to him in that calm, unmoved tone; 
and young Wilkerson standing there, with a halo of ten- 
derness about his face, holding Rosalind’s hand, apparent- 
ly pledging to her his faithfulness. After all, could it be 
possible that he had over-estimated this girl and was to 
find himself deceived in her? That Rosalind had ac 
quired a great and growing influence over him he was 
now thoroughly convinced, and not until he had had tes- 
timony of another wooing her was he aware how deeply 
rooted had become his own regard. The estimate he had 
placed upon her did not admit of her being a girl who 
would deliberately practice the art of deceiving, and, 
to all appearances, it seemed that she was not only carry- 


202 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


ing on a clandestine courtship with Edgar Wilkerson, but 
at the same time, in the most exquisitely feminine way 
encouraging him, also. It was intensely painful to him to 
believe in even the possibility of such being the case, for 
Kosalind had not only impressed him as being one of the 
most beautiful of women, but he had also deemed her as 
good as she was beautiful, for with him la beaute sans 
vertu est une fleur sans parfum. And thus it- was that all 
the romance of his nature had clothed her with the idealic 
qualities of pure and lovely womanhood. Until he met 
Kosalind he believed that he had outlived all his youth- 
ful imagination, but it was a mistaken idea; and now, 
having fully awakened to the fact of what she had become 
to him, he finds that this queen of roses, whom he had so 
often thought of as being truly symbolical of her name, 
was fast becoming a mystery to him, and one that his 
logical brain could not well analyze. A misgiving, 
a cruel suspicion was taking hold upon him, and he men- 
tally asked himself how far he had allowed his feelings 
to mislead him? and to what length he had miscalculated 
this girl, who, after all his cherished belief in her good- 
ness and high moral character, might have been only act- 
ing, while beneath all that gentleness and womanliness 
she, too, perhaps held cunning and deception? 

Thus it was that Gerald reasoned with himself and 
tried to call to aid all the cynicism that he had been stor- 
ing up for years, but at the time when he most needed 
it, he found that day by day it had melted away, and 
had almost vanished beyond recall. 

Yes, it was only too true that during the few months he 


THE FETE. 


203 


had known Rosalind he had builded up within his own 
heart a temple of purity and beauty, and the saint he 
had enshrined there, was, after all, only a woman, and 
one of the kind, too, it appeared, who could sanction 
clandestine meetings — possibly against the wishes of the 
good old aunt who had so kindly sheltered her in her 
lonely and orphaned state. But what right had he to let 
his personal sentiment — or sentimentality, as he scornfully 
termed it — come between Rosalind and Edgar, when it 
was not now possible to retreat from the knowledge that 
they were something more to each other than mere ac- 
quaintances ? Then he told himself sadly that he had 
given himself no right, and realized with bitterness that 
he had only been dreaming while Edgar was acting. A 
sense of failure came wearily over him and he grew im- 
patient, aye, indignant, with his weakness, as he chose to 
term this newly-awakened feeling, especially after having 
long ago forsworn woman and her power over him, did 
he lament over his folly. 

‘‘And yet it was a happiness within itself to love her,” 
he murmured, unconscious of the fact that he was giving 
voice to his thoughts and the inner feelings of his sublime 
nature. 

And so the hours wore on; a clock in some distant part 
of the house echoed and re-echoed through the silence. 
It was midnight; yet still he sat there gazing out on the 
starlit scene, thinking deeply. A great weariness came 
over him^ — a vague but sincere regret settled upon his 
heart; and while he recounted the incidents of the past 
months, and what had that evening transpired, he told 


204 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


himself over and over that he was a fool, who, after see- 
ing life in all its phases and schooling himself with the 
idea that people were the same the world over, and that 
love, too, was only imagination, experienced in all its 
magnitude only by the young and unsophisticated. Now, 
upon this self-examination, he finds that all these ideas 
have drifted away from him, and in the desert place of 
his heart has developed this oasis — the true affection of 
his nature having resumed sway over him and emphat- 
ically asserted its dominion. Yiewing Gerald from an 
emotional standpoint, it is evident that he was a man not 
only possessed with intellect, character and high moral 
culture, but a heart also. 

“After all I am only human,” he mentally concluded 
as die saw the gray gleams of the morning stealing in 
through the arched casement, and realized that throughout 
the whole night his lonely vigil had remained unbroken. 
Then thoroughly exhausted and completely dispirited, he 
prepared himself for the rest he so much needed. 

“With a few hours of sleep I will have shaken off this 
fearful attack,” he mused as he lay down upon his lux- 
uriant couch. 

When Gerald did not make his appearance at the 
breakfast table on the following morning no one ex- 
pressed the least surprise, and none but Kosalind at- 
tached any importance to his absence; intuitively she 
divined the reason that he was not there beside her 
speaking such kindly words, and adding to her life that 
new and sublime interest which he alone had the power 
to inspire. Alas! too well she knew the reason why he 


THE FETE. 


205 


had remained away, and her heart felt heavy indeed. 
Grandmother Underwood noticed her pale cheeks, and 
pressed her to drink a cup of black coffee and to eat a 
hot roll, if nothing else; and the poor girl, seeing that 
Mrs. Porter was observing her more closely than ever 
upon this morning in particular, also wearing a little sar- 
castic smile upon her pretty lips, forced herself to eat a 
little, and also attempted to keep up a lively conversation 
with Millie, who was planning their dresses and expati- 
ating upon the grand time they were to have while at 
Niagara. 

“Of course you will go, as I intend to go home with 
you and ask Miss Yilinda myself to let you go with us,” 
she expounded. 

“Well, we had best go this morning, as 1 will have to 
send to Louisville for the dresses you have suggested, 
and a good many other things, hence it is best that my 
order should go in to-day, as we have but little time for 
preparations,” Kosalind said, as she rose from the table. 

In a short time the two girls were riding towards Mor- 
ton Place; Millie, intent upon her mission, was gay and 
talkative, while Kosalind had but little to say and seemed 
preoccupied with her own thoughts; she was meditating 
within her own mind whether or not she should tell Mil- 
lie what had occurred while Edgar and herself were in 
the rose arbor the night previous, but somehow she felt 
that it was best to keep as silent on the subject as pos- 
sible. 

After a little persuasion and some coaxing on Millie’s 
part. Miss Yilinda felt constrained to give her permission 


206 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


to Rosalind making one of the party, experiencing no lit- 
tle pride in the thought that her grandniece was so much 
sought after by these elegant people; therefore they were 
not long in making necessary arrangements, and the or- 
der for Rosalind’s outfit was also made out and sent at 
once, it being understood by all concerned that she would 
make one of the party. No coaxing or persuading could 
have induced Miss Yilinda or old lady Underwood to act 
as chaperon to the ladies, as neither of them would have 
undertaken the journey at their age on any account what- 
ever; so Judge Underwood had consented to escort the 
party. 

“We must have a moonlight fete, or a garden party, 
or an entertainment of some kind, before leaving Ivy 
Crown,” the Judge had suggested a few days from the 
time set apart for starting; and every one except Hetty 
had hailed the idea with delight. 

“I think it decidedly bad taste to give an entertain- 
ment of any kind without at least ten days notice,” re- 
monstrated this very correct damsel. 

“ Admitting the bad taste, conventionally speaking, it 
would be still worse — in truth, an unpardonable offense 
to the neighborhood in general — were we all to leave Ivy 
Crown again without you ladies having returned the many 
calls, or in any way manifesting a desire to be sociable. 
So what better means could be employed to facilitate 
matters than those I have just named?” 

“I think father has taken a reasonable view of the 
matter, as something is really necessary in the way of an 
apology to our friends, and I am confident that nothing 


THE FETE. 


207 


would prove a better sedative than throwing open the 
house and illuminating the grounds and inviting every- 
body for miles around,” said Gerald. 

So it was decided that a moonlight fete would be given 
on the evening prior to their leaving for Niagara. For 
once at least Hetty’s objections had been overruled, and 
strange to say she made no further protest, but manifested 
-her indifference by taking but little or no interest in the 
matter of arrangements. However, this had no effect of 
lessening the zeal of the others, and all went briskly to 
work, writing cards of invitation, wreathing impromptu 
arches, and making preparations generally. As Gerald 
had suggested, everybody for miles around were included 
in the invitations, even the Nortons and the Wilkersons, 
though they all were perfectly aware of the fact that none 
of the latter but Edgar would accept. 

The few intervening days passed swiftly by, bringing 
about the time set aside for the delightful event, and 
everything went as merrily on as the joyful chimes of 
wedding bells. Not less beautiful than its predecessors 
was the evening of the fete, the weather being perfectly 
adapted to the occasion, and, under the blue, star- 
bedecked canopy of heaven. Ivy Crown shone out re- 
splendent. Everything pertaining to the grand old place 
was as lovely as a dream; the house, from basement to 
garret, had been thrown open, and from every aperture 
streamed the most brilliant lights. The grounds, too, 
were radiant with the illumination of many Japanese 
lamps, the varied shades of which threw a softly subdued 
light over all, reflecting the fountains with their flashing 


208 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


sprays, the white statuary, dense clusters of evergreens and 
blossoming flowers making it appear, indeed, a vision of 
enchantment. While moving to and fro amidst those rare 
beauties of art and nature, were joyous groups of various 
ages, who viewed with delight the lovely scene presented 
to their admiring eyes, from both within and without. 
The drawingroom, with its appointments of crimson and 
gold, and the picture gallery, containing life-sized por- 
traits of the Underwoods for generations back, were no 
small features in the imposing display, and shone out con- 
spicuously before the enthused spectators of the prome- 
nade. The banqueting hall, too, which was only used on 
the most festive occasions, was thrown open to the 
dancers, adjoining which was the conservatory. From 
this the glass doors had been removed, leaving the air 
odoriferous with the myriad rare exotics blooming therein. 
All the community for many miles around had received 
invitations, and everybody, excepting the Wilkersons, 
had come. And, notwithstanding the fact that Edgar had 
interceded in behalf of his sisters, the mother was firm in 
denying them this privilege. ‘‘We haint harristocrats, 
and, what’s more, don’t want to be. Hits bad enough to 
hav one of the famly running arter them high-flalutins, 
let alone the others,” she expostulated. 

But though Mrs. Wilkerson refused to be patronized 
by the Underwoods, Mrs. Norton did not; however, she 
was far too self-confident to understand that she was held 
in ludicrous derision by all who represented the more re- 
fined class of society, and upon this occasion did not fail 
to put in an appearance, attired, as usual, in a most youth- 


THE FETE. 


209 


ful looking costume, composed of pink mull, with a pro- 
fusion of ribbons and lace, while poor Norton appeared 
more ill at ease than ever, wearing a dress suit and tight 
fitting gloves. And now amid this bewitching scene, 
while the merry throng assemble within the spacious hall 
and glide hither and thither to the harmonious strains of 
the waltz music, let us look around for Rosalind, whom 
we have not found among the dancers, or rambling amid 
the beauties of the outer world. But within the recess of 
the shadowy conservatory, where stately palms are bow- 
ing gently to the evening breeze, and the rich perfumes 
of the myriad flowering plants, rendered doubly sweet by 
the added scent of the tropical blooms, are wafted to her, 
we find our heroine sitting alone. The group of oleanders 
raise their slender heads high above her and scatter their 
odorous blossoms all about her; still, she seems heedless 
of their beauty and fragrance. She was perhaps the only 
one present who did not feel the enlivening influence of 
the surroundings. Ever since the night two weeks pre- 
vious to this occasion, when Gerald and Mrs. Porter had 
found her alone in the rose bower with Edgar Wilkerson, 
she had noticed a change in his — Gerald’s — manner 
towards her, and this had rendered her very unhappy; 
not that he had been less kind or respectful — for he was 
never found lacking in the courtesy due his sisters’ guest — 
but there was a certain restraint and reserve of manner 
that had not characterized his actions towards her until 
he had seen her alone with Edgar Wilkerson. She was 
thinking sadly of this, and wishing that she could explain 
to him how matters stood, but this she could not do with- 


14 


21Q 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


out betraying Millie’s secret, and she would suffer any- 
thing before she would break her sacred promise to keep 
the secret that the spoiled child had confided to her, 
when the oleanders parted, and the object of her 
thoughts stood before her. The conscious blushes surged 
into her cheeks as she saw who it was approaching her, 
and in the embarrassment of the moment she forgot to 
offer him a seat beside her on the rustic settee. However, 
he did not seem to observe this, but seated himself oppo- 
site her, and said: 

“You do not dance, I believe. Miss Morton? ” 

“Yes, 1 have danced often while at Brobkdale, but not 
since papa’s death; he had been very fond of dancing 
when a young man, and he taught me to waltz, which no 
doubt seems strange to you, he being a minister,” she 
said, interrogatively. 

“Yes, according to the code of religious doctrine some 
ministers preach, where dancing is held up to be some- 
thing of an almost unpardonable nature, I must admit it 
appears a little strange,” Gerald answered, thoughtfully. 

“But papa’s ideas of religion were a little different from 
the most of ministers; he believed that we were put in this 
beautiful world to enjoy it, and that the young especially 
should be joyous and happy, and all that was necessary 
to insure our safety was to love God, pray to him, and 
keep his commandments.” 

I It was wonderful to see how Kosalind brightened up 
while speaking of her father; it seemed to comfort her 
and make her forget unpleasant thoughts; then, when she 
had ceased speaking, she looked away into the distance. 


THE FETE 


211 


The deep appealing of her large beautiful eyes did not 
escape Gerald, and he could scarcely resist their plead- 
ing; in his heart he longed to ask her to explain the 
scene he had witnessed in the summer-house, or, in other 
words, to tell him what Edgar Wilkerson was to her, for 
at that very moment he felt like there might be some mis- 
take, and asked himself, “Why, if she and Edgar were 
lovers, was it that he was not with her at that time, for 
what place could be better suited to lovers than this 
secluded and lovely spot?” Then it occurred to him 
that even then she might be awaiting him there, and upon 
the impulse of the moment he arose and moved towards 
the door, but seeing Edgar and Millie taking their place 
for a quadrille, he retraced his steps to the rustic seat oc- 
cupied by Rosalind. 

“I am a fool,” he muttered, “to be giving away to such 
weakness, but I have learned to love her, not alone be^ 
cause of her beautiful saintly face, but more especially for 
her apparently spotless nature, omnia vincit amor. But 
I must not reveal to her my feelings, and tho’ in duty 
bound to see that she receives every attention due a guest 
of Ivy Crown, I must at the same time keep a strict guard 
over my actions and not allow myself to be carried from 
the bounds of reason by giving away to impulse, and as 
soon as this trip to Niagara is over I will away from the 
softening influence of her presence and try to forget that 
I have ever looked upon her sweet face.” 

Thus it was that Gerald soliloquized while a profound 
silence had fallen over the two. 

And Rosalind, of what was she thinking during this 
time? 


212 


ROSALIND MORTON, 


“He does not care for me any longer,” she was telling 
herself sadly, “and can scarcely tolerate my presence.” 

This was all she comprehended, furthermore she only 
knew that she suffered. Then her eyes, sadly pathetic, 
turned full upon him, and in the tender dimness of the 
place her face resembled that of the picture of a sad-eyed 
Madonna he had seen while in Home — a painting of rare 
workmanship from the brush of one of the old masters, 
the features of which were touched with a tremulous subtle 
glow, so lovely, yet so intensely sorrowful. And now 
the same expression had stolen into the countenance of 
Kosalind — that of a shadowed pain, lending to the ex- 
quisitely molded features the same sad cast and to the 
eyes the same depth and tender pathos. Gerald caught 
the expression in its supreme emotion, her eyes sorrowful 
and appealing, seeking his own, and he was not only im- 
pressed with the resemblance between Kosalind and the 
lovely saint, but the consciousness that this knowledge 
had acquired for him a new aspect of beauty, causing him 
to almost forget his resolutions. 

A passing zephyr at this moment swept a shower of 
oleander blossoms over them, wafting to them the odor- 
ous breath of the myriad flowering plants with which they 
were surrounded. 

Gerald arose, and calling to aid all of his feigned re- 
serve of manner, said, “These flowers are overpowering 
in their fragrance, and I feel as tho’ I was stifling; sup- 
pose we try this waltz. Miss Morton.” 

Without a word of reply Kosalind took his proffered 
arm, and the two, so near to each other in sympathy, yet 


THE FETE. 


213 


doomed to so soon wander apart, left the cool dim shad- 
ows and sweet blooming flowers for the brilliant lights of 
the ballroom. 

The band was playing a most enchanting waltz, and 
Bosalind and Gerald were soon circling through the mazy 
dance. It was the flrst time they had ever danced 
together, and while Gerald clasped the slender waist of 
the beautiful girl and looked dreamily past her, not dar- 
ing to again meet her gaze, Bosalind experienced the 
most indescribable sensations. Her whole being thrilled 
under the vibrating touch of his hand with a strange 
mingling of joy and grief, hope and despair; but to her 
these feelings were neither elusive or deflnable. The 
soft caressing rhythm of the music, full of slumberous pas- 
sion, roused within her the most intense emotion and 
touched her like the echo of her own heart, for in the 
haunting melody she seemed to hear Gerald’s voice call- 
ing her name in the tenderest accents, and then it ap- 
peared that in response the voices of the instruments 
grew heavy with an untold sorrow. Yielding herself up 
to these soul-inspiring strains, together with the magnetic 
influence of Gerald’s presence, Bosalind experienced all 
the enjoyment derived from waltzing, and seemed to float 
and drift on the flowing tides of melody. The inspiration 
of the seraphic music, and the soothing realization that 
Gerald was near her, caused her to abandon herself to 
the charmed spell and forget for the time being that she 
was unhappy; and only when, like a deep sighing sob, the 
harmonies of the refrain sounded, was she recalled from 
her blissful dream; then Gerald’s voice sounded close be- 


214 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


side her, “Allow me to compliment you, Miss Morton, on 
your beautiful dancing; I have waltzed a great deal in my 
more youthful days, but I can truly say I never had a 
partner who could in the least compare with you.” 

And tho’ he endeavored to speak naturally, his voice 
was tremulous with emotion. 

“Thank you,” was all that Rosalind replied, for she 
had not yet fully awakened from her delicious trance, 
still his words made her very happy, and caused her 
cheeks to suffuse with rosy blushes. 

“Come, we will go out for a breath of fresh air; have 
you seen the grounds to-night?” he asked, leading her 
from the ballroom. 

“Only from the house,” Rosalind answered, more 
composedly. 

“Then we will go and have a look at them,” Gerald 
returned, speaking more like himself than he had done 
since the unfortunate occurrence of the rose bower. And 
while they wandered amidst the sublime beauties without, 
at this time so richly enhanced by the many floral designs, 
emblematical of the occasion and radiated by the blend- 
ing of the soft light of the moon with that of the many 
colored Japanese lamps, it appeared to Rosalind that she 
was indeed in realms of enchantment, and she became 
dumb with admiration, feeling that no words would half 
suffice to express her delight in viewing a scene so sur- 
passingly lovely. In the brief hour Gerald had spent 
with her she had been drinking of the waters of Lethe — 
all her former content having returned to her, and again 
she was dreaming the sweet dreams that, waking and 


THE FETE. 


215 


sleeping, she had dreamed ever since she had known the 
man who was then beside her. The tones of his voice, 
the gentleness of his manner, his superior intelligence — 
in fact, his every characteristic — had charmed and fasci- 
nated her from the first, and this distinctive regard with 
which he had inspired her had strengthened and intensified 
with each meeting until, without hope or expectation for the 
future, every affection of her nature had concentrated and 
settled upon him. Every phase of this new and beautiful 
existence was interwoven with thoughts of him, and 
touched her like divine inspiration, and her sweet spirit, 
borne upon the wings of enthused imagination, seemed 
to fioat upward and commune with the disembodied one 
of her loved father. Some poet has said, “Love’s words 
are weak, but not Love’s silence.” And so it was with 
Rosalind; her heart was too full of happiness to speak. 

And while the two roamed from beauty to beauty, 
Gerald noted her silence, but could not doubt the look of 
supreme content written upon her classical brow and shin- 
ing from the lovelit heavenly blue eyes. But he talked on, 
without appearing to notice how quiet she had become 
upon all subjects that he thought would be of interest to 
her, not forgetting* again that evening that this lovely 
girl was a guest, of Ivy Crown. And while he talked 
Rosalind listened — aye, listened as one would listen to 
catch the notes of far-away music — scarcely daring to 
breathe, leastwise one little note would be lost upon the 
ear. 

Thus it was that the sweet solitude, the pervading per- 
fume, the distant sounds of harmony, and moreover, the 


216 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


powerful influence of Gerald’s presence, all combined, 
bad the effect of lulling the enthused girl into a state of 
perfect bliss, her feelings having indeed gathered to cul- 
mination. 

At last they stopped beside the center fountain to ad- 
mire the dazzling effect of the different lights upon it, 
and Rosalind, remembering her long silence, said: 

“I do not believe that any other place was ever as 
beautiful as Ivy Crown.” 

And at that moment Gerald felt that she had said 
aright, for nothing could have appeared more complete in 
grandeur and sublime beauty, and none could have looked 
on it without becoming enraptured. The soft witching 
rays of lights, blending their diverse colors athwart the 
fountain, from which great silvery sprays were ascending 
and descending in showers of brightest gems, and falling 
in gentle rhythm upon the calm still air. The water 
lilies, too, with their snowy petals, seemed slumbering in 
their cool, sweet bed, adding purity and loveliness to the 
quiet scene, while every now and then a beautiful white 
swan, Undine like, rose up from the water, to again sub- 
merge into its crystal depths; overhead the sky, a delicate 
blue, studded by millions of bright stars, while under- 
neath their feet grasses and flowers were mingling their 
exquisite odors. 

Scattered here and there were a number of rustic chairs. 
After drinking in the supreme beauty of their surround- 
ings for some time, Gerald led Rosalind to one of these, 
and seating her, sank into another near by. 

‘T am glad you so much admire my old home; I, too, 


THE FETE. 


217 


think it very lovely, though there are many handsomer 
ones, or rather supposed to be, from the enormous sums 
of money that has been expended upon them; but through 
association I am inclined to think that I prefer Ivy 
Crown, ” 

“It does not appear to me that its beauty could possi- 
bly be excelled. Flease do not think me too inquisitive 
if I ask who was it that planned these lovely grounds?” 

“Certainly not,” returned Gerald, “the arrangements 
of the grounds are after my own idea of beauty, which, 
however, are not of original design, as they are fashioned 
after a Florentine garden I sketched while in Italy. Of 
course this is nothing to be compared with the size of 
the original, but it is a good imitation on a less elaborate 
scale. The garden from which this one is designed be- 
longed to the villa Costello, which is situated about three 
miles from Florence, and in my opinion is the loveliest 
in all Italy.” 

“What a beautiful land Italy must be! Is it true that 
during all seasons it is nothing but sunshine and flowers?” 
Rosalind asked, enthusiastically. 

“Yes, quite true; and as far as the climate is concerned, 
it is a most delightful part of the world; but notwith- 
standing this, and furthermore, that of its cities of grand 
architecture and magniflcent towers, I would not exchange 
for all of it the State of dear old Kentucky, for, without 
a doubt, Italy has more thieves and miserable looking 
vagabonds than any other country it has ever been my lot 
to visit. We do not realize the fact that America is the 
most blessed of all lands until we go abroad, also that the 


218 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


true born American who comes of good blood and parent- 
age is the most enlightened, the most intellectual, and 
the most humane of any other nation on the face of the 
globe; remember I do not include foreigners who for the 
sake of greed and freedom flock here, but the out and out 
Anglo-American, when I say that they are the noblest 
of God’s creation.” 

Some moments of silence followed Gerald’s speech, in 
which Rosalind sat, as if spell-bound, wondering within 
herself if she were awake or dreaming. The sweet as- 
surance that he had upon this evening preferred her so- 
ciety to that of the beautiful widow’s, had little by little 
come to her as he talked, and, with the echo of his voice 
still sounding in her ears, she realized that this ought to 
be sufficient proof of his regard; and after all he had seen 
in the little rustic arbor, which was to him, of course, in- 
explicable, he was not entirely disgusted with her. Thus 
Rosalind was thinking and comparing her present state 
of felicity to the gloominess that had enshrouded her 
earlier in the evening, when, turning her head slightly, 
she let her eyes wander over the grounds. Never had she 
appeared so serenely beautiful as upon this evening, and 
knowing this, Gerald had studiously avoided letting his 
eyes rest upon her, and while they sat there alone — with 
no sound but the distant music of the ballroom and the 
splash of the fountain breaking upon the supreme quiet of 
their surroundings — Gerald did not observe the sudden 
start and the white pallor that overspread her face. But, 
from a clump of evergreens not’ far from the foun- 
tain, there had arisen a form, which continued to advance 


THE FETE. 


219 


slowly towards her, at first appearing dim and undefined 
in the distance, but as it approached nearer and nearer, 
the girl realized to her horror and dismay that it was no 
other than the hideous thing that had twice before ap- 
peared to her in the midst of these beautiful and classical 
grounds; and again it was, through fioral arches and shad- 
owed lights she saw it creeping, stealthily as a cat, to- 
wards her, its sodden eyes and wide mouth leering at her 
in the same imbecile manner, sickening to behold. In 
vain did she try to cry out, but her lips refused her utter- 
ance, and, in the extremity of the moment, she raised her 
hands to her face to shut out the dread vision, but they 
trembled so violently that they dropped into her lap, 
and intuitively her eyes again sought the spot where 
the woeful sight had met her gaze. It was not there. In 
the few moments that had elapsed, the evil thing — the 
bete noir that seemed to haunt her footsteps — had van- 
ished. During the time, Gerald had not once looked to- 
wards her, hence had not observed the nervous movement 
of her hands and startled expression of her eyes; but, 
hearing a low sound escape her, he looked and saw the 
deathly hue that had overspread her face, which had re- 
placed the roses that were blooming so brightly upon her 
cheeks a few moments previous; the whitening lips trem- 
bling with the very breath that passed between them, and 
the fixed look of terror in the expression of her eyes. The 
next instant he was close beside her, anxiously exclaiming: 

“What is the matter. Miss Morton? I fear you are 
ill; you are as pale as death.” 

While he was speaking, Rosalind had gained sufficient 


220 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


composure to answer him coherently, and, with a faint 
semblance of a smile, she said: 

“Nothing is the matter with me — at least, I am not ill; 
only a little nervous, I believe; and if you have no ob- 
jection I would like to go in the house, as I feel a little 
cold out here,” she added, while a slight but perceptible 
shiver passed over her. 

“By all means; and I must humbly beg pardon for 
keeping you out in the night air so long,” returned Gerald, 
regretfully. 

‘ ‘ There is no need of that, as I am not afraid of the 
night air injuring me since I am quite free from ailments, 
unless it is that I have grown imaginary, or else am gifted 
with a double vision, either of which, I presume, might 
be termed a malady,” she said, glancing over her shoul- 
der and again shivering, in spite of her effort to preserve 
an outward calm. 

At that moment they were startled by a prolonged 
shriek, which broke upon the noiseless air and echoed 
back from the depths of the forest, sounding more like an 
enraged and hunted animal than that of a human being, 
and again the color forsook Kosalind’s face, leaving it of 
a bloodless and pallid hue, while her agitation became so 
great that Gerald had to guide her faltering footsteps as 
he proceeded to conduct her to the house. 

“Merciful heaven! what cry was that?” she asked, in 
a horrified tone, scarcely able to command her voice. 

“Don’t let it alarm you; it is nothing that can in any 
way molest you, and it must have been the same sound 
that your man-servant, Peter, has been hearing of late. 


THE FETE. 


221 


of which he was telling me a few days since. He claims 
that there is a wild cat in the forest — lying between Mor- 
ton Place and Ivy Crown — and since that was the same 
noise that he described, he must have judged rightly, for 
there is no doubt but what that was a feline cry.” 

When they reached the house Gerald found a quiet 
place for Rosalind, and hastened to procure her a glass 
of wine. No sooner had he passed beyond her sight than 
Mrs. Porter, leaning on the arm of Edgar Wilkerson, 
looking surpassingly lovely, came up to where she was 
sitting, and said, in the sweetest of tones, “Found at 
last; where in the world have you been hiding yourself 
all the evening? Mr. Wilkerson has been perfectly in- 
consolable at your loss, and I kindly volunteered my 
services to assist in searching you out.” 

Before Rosalind had time to form a reply, Gerald re- 
turned with the wine, arriving on the scene just in time 
to hear Mrs. Porter’s words regarding the search she and 
Edgar had been making for Rosalind. Tendering her the 
wine, he said; 

“Since Miss Morton has been somewhat indisposed this 
evening, you will have to excuse her absence from the 
ballroom; however, as refreshments are now being served 
in the diningroom, it is not too late for Mr. Wilkerson to 
have the pleasure of serving her in some way, so he can 
attend her to the table, and see that she is waited upon. 
And as there was no possibility of doing otherwise, Rosa- 
lind went with Edgar, leaving Gerald and the adroit 
schemer alone together. 


CHAPTER XIY. 


AT NIAGARA. 

** Moments there are, and this is one, 

Snatch’d like a minute’s gleam of sun 
Amid the black Simoon’s eclipse; 

Or like those verdant spots that bloom 
Around the crater’s burning lips, 

Sweetening the very edge of doom! 

The past, the future— all that fate 
Can bring of dark or desperate 
Around such hours, but makes them cast 
Intenser radiance while they last ! ” 

«<|T is just too bad that we cannot commence our sight- 
seeing to-day, since the weather is so deliciously cool 
and everything without looks so inviting,” exclaimed 
Millie, the next morning after the arrival of the party at 
Niagara. 

Rosalind, Millie, and Nettie Rhea stood by a window of 
the Clifton House, overlooking Horseshoe Falls. 

“Well, why can’t we, I would like to know? I sup- 
posed that was what we came here for,” replied Nettie, a 
little tartly. 

“So we did, but Hetty and Mrs. Porter think it would 
appear countrified and unfashionable in us not to remain 
in doors for a day or two at least after we arrive here, or 
it may be a week, I couldn’t say, as I am not acquainted 
with the etiquette of the place and therefore do not know 
the exact limits to which we are reduced; as if we were 

222 


AT NIAGARA. 


223 


the least bit tired, and not just dying of curiosity to get a 
nearer view of that wonderful piece of nature’s handi- 
work, as papa would put it,” Millie ended, by assuming 
the tone of mimic eloquence of her father’s, and then 
breaking into a hearty laugh. 

Nettie and Rosalind joined Millie in her mirth, for 
none could have resisted the bright winsome face before 
them. Then while Nettie assured her that “she was a 
born actress and would yet make her fame and fortune on 
the stage,” Rosalind turned again to the window, and 
was soon lost in deep thought while she stood listening to 
the rush and roar of the mighty cataract. 

None of the party except the three girls had arisen, at 
least had given no token of having done so, hence Millie 
and her two friends could do nothing but remain in their 
room and admire their surroundings from the view af- 
forded them by their windows. 

True it was nearly the turn of the night when they had 
reached Niagara, and the rest of the ladies expected to 
lie in bed all day, resting from their imaginary fatigue 
consequent to their journey; Judge Underwood, too, 
having just turned over for his morning nap, was also 
uncertain as to when he would arise. However, it was 
yet quite early — only a quarter past ten; but these young 
and eager girls were not content to lie in bed for the sake 
of observing the rules Henrietta had read to Millie; they 
were not yet so worldly as to sacrifice their natural pro- 
clivities upon the altar of that tyrannical deity called 
conventionality, and long hours ago had been awakened 
by the vociferous voice of the wonderful falls of Niagara. 


224 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Their excursion hither had been altogether a pleasant and 
leisurely one, having traveled by rail to Cleveland, Ohio, 
at which point they had taken a steamer up Lake Erie, 
thus completing their journey. Especially had Rosalind 
and Millie enjoyed traveling on the water, having spent 
the most of their time out on the guards or in the pilot 
house while on board the vessel. 

And it had so happened that upon these occasions 
they were always escorted by Edgar and Gerald. The 
consequence of this was that Rosalind naturally enough 
fell to Gerald’s care, who, had he not already brought 
himself to face the possibility of her becoming the 
wife of Edgar Wilkerson at some not far distant day, 
would have become cognizant of the fact that this arrange- 
ment appeared highly agreeable to both Millie and Ed- 
gar. Yet the brother, though a man of profound learn- 
ing and great intelligence, had nevertheless overlooked 
this altogether, having never contemplated such a thing 
as Millie having a lover. 

There was one most enviable trait which Gerald pos- 
sessed; his nature was too loyal and noble to treasure 
anything like jealousy, and notwithstanding the dismay 
and disappointment with which he regarded the discovery 
that Rosalind and Edgar were something more to each 
other than mere acquaintances, it had awakened within 
him no trace of this ignoble weakness, though he con- 
stantly told himself he would have been better pleased to 
have felt that she had been provided with a future hus- 
band as well-born as herself, and fairly shuddered at the 
thought of the uncongenial atmosphere of Edgar’s home. 


AT NIAGARA. 


225 


But to return to the three girls whom we left longing 
to loosen their conventional shackles. 

Two days were accordingly spent before Henrietta 
would sanction their going out, for this proud damsel al- 
ways left the impression wherever she went that she and 
her party represented the most elite; and no one who saw 
the Underwoods ever doubted their pre-eminence. Upon 
the score of Kosalind’s personal appearance Henrietta 
was perfectly satisfied, tho’ she did not approve of her 
impulsiveness of speech at times, still her youthful ap- 
pearance would excuse any lack of dignity, and her deli- 
cate high-bred manner betokened her a true born lady 
and would supply many other deficiencies. 

Thus it was that Henrietta had concluded upon weigh- 
ing the matter of Kosalind becoming one of their party, 
and had not had the least cause to regret having given 
her consent. So it all came about that on the morning 
of the third day after their arrival Judge Underwood ex- 
pressed his willingness to accompany them on a trip around 
the falls. 

Kosalind, Millie and Nettie, Gerald, Edgar and Fred 
were all breakfasting in the diningroom of the Clifton 
House, when the Judge came in and announced his inten- 
tions for the day. As to the other ladies, they preferred 
to remain at the hotel, Mrs. Porter and Henrietta both 
claiming slight indisposition, and Nellie Stevenson 
would not go without them. 

. Accordingly in a short time the aforesaid members of 
the party had found a little steamer ready to convey them 
on their long anticipated journey around the falls ; and after 

15 


226 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


each had donned a rubber suit they went out to look upon 
and admire the grandest piece of nature’s architecture, the 
most sublime of all the wonders of the universe — Niagara! 
And while Millie and Nettie were wild with enthusiasm 
over the sight presented to their gaze, Rosalind was mute 
with reverential admiration and awe. The grand spec- 
tacle, the stupendous roar, the beautiful waters flowing 
from the seemingly infinite heights was the most sub- 
limely beautiful scene she had ever looked upon, and 
inspired her with still higher and holier thoughts and as- 
pirations. 

After leaving the boat they lingered for some time in 
Prospect Park admiring its labyrinths of lovely flowers, 
and planning a series of excursions for the afternoon, 
among which was “Cave of the Winds,” “Hurricane 
Bridge,” “Hermit’s Cascade,” and many others, all of 
which would have occupied two or three days. Judge Un- 
derwood had laughingly remarked, when Millie, in her 
childish eagerness, said, enthusiastically: 

“And there are all those lovely little islands. Why 
can we not visit them also this afternoon? ” 

“The islands are not going to run away; 1 wonder why 
it is, Millie, that you are always rattled about every- 
thing?” put in Fred, reprovingly. 

“How like Mother Eve are all womankind, so curious 
to taste of all life’s surprises and pleasures at once? ” said 
Edgar to Millie, soto voce. 

“And how like unto Father Adam are all mankind, 
being ever ready to share with us our curiosity? ” retorted 
Millie, readily, speaking in the same low tone of voice. 


227 


AT NIAGARA. 

There were not a great many guests at this time stop- 
ping at the Clifton; at least, it was not overcrowded; 
hence our party found themselves almost as comfortable 
as while at Ivy Crown. After becoming installed, the 
ladies felt free to promenade about the halls and ve- 
randas; and while Millie and Nettie employed much of 
their time in this way, Rosalind would find a quiet little 
nook, where she could while away an hour reading, or, 
more often, listening to the sounding rhythm of the 
Tails. Sometimes, too, she would sit where she was un- 
observed, and make a character study of the different 
faces that passed and repassed her; and to one of her 
quick intelligence, it was not a difficult matter to clas- 
sify these strange people. One thing she noticed particu- 
larly, that the most elegant and refined of these visit- 
ors — or, as Fred would have termed them, the swell peo- 
ple of the land — were the most quiet and unassuming, 
in both dress and manners, avoiding display, and in their 
going and coming attracting as little attention as possible. 
While on the other hand she beheld many just to the con- 
trary, who, through some means, had become the possess- 
ors of money, fine clothes, and jewelry of elaborate set- 
ting, all of which they seemed determined to impress 
upon the minds of others as their actual belongings. For 
this class she felt a profound pity, as well as an utter dis- 
gust. By comparison, she fully comprehended that all 
comprising the party of Judge Underwood were decidedly 
of the most elegant and well-bred type; and to her re- 
fined nature, this knowledge imparted a sense of supreme 
gratification. 


228 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


It was on the afternoon of the fourth day subsequent to 
their arrival that Rosalind sat alone by one of the parlor 
windows. She had been reading Evangeline, Longfellow’s 
most beautiful and pathetic poem, and the sad fate of the 
idealized maiden, as pictured by the poet, had so seriously 
impressed her that she had closed the volume and was 
trying to divert her thoughts into a more cheerful channel 
by watching the arrival of some new guest. It was nearly 
five o’clock, and up to this hour had rained incessantly — 
all day long — thus rendering it impossible for any of 
them to venture out of the hotel, much less upon the ex- 
cursions they had planned for the day; and while Mrs. 
Porter, Henrietta, and Nellie, assisted by the Hon. Percy 
Barton and the two cadets, had engaged their time play- 
ing authors, Millie, Nettie, and Rosalind, had enlivened 
the hours with music, having played and sung all Judge 
Underwood’s favorite songs. Fred, too, had come in for 
his share of amusement, and had doubtless enjoyed his 
so-termed scraps with Millie and Nettie more than any- 
thing else, judging from the frequent altercations that 
had taken place between the three. Later on, however, 
Rosalind had managed to steal away from the others 
and screened herself from observation within a recess of 
a window, which, from contact with the damp mistiness 
of the atmosphere, glowed sombrely, darkening the out- 
look so confusedly that she could not penetrate it. The 
room, too, appeared close to suffocation; altogether, 
making it necessary to raise the window. Upon doing 
so, she felt much refreshed, and at once gave her- 
self up to her old habit of day-dreaming. An hour had 


AT NIAGARA. 


229 


passed while Rosalind rested in this comparative calm, 
listening to the thunder of the gigantic cataract, the in- 
definable influence of which lulled her senses into the 
most exquisite languor and repose; then the sound of 
footsteps, coming from the rear end of the veranda, fell 
upon her ear — steps that she had learned to distinguish 
from all others were advancing towards her. Not only was 
she convinced by the sound that it was Gerald who was 
drawing near, but she also felt that subtle warning of his 
presence, and though she had not seen him, the percep- 
tions of the soul, swift, mysterious and unerring had al- 
ready acknowledged his approach. All that day she had 
been asking herself where was he, for she had not seen 
him once during those long hours, and intuitively she 
leaned forward to get a passing glimpse of him, when, to 
her dismay and dire confusion, the poem fell to the floor 
of the veranda, right at his feet. Bending forward he 
picked up the volume, and was in.the act of replacing it in 
the window when he discovered its owner, and, bowing in 
his easy, graceful manner, said: 

“Beg pardon. Miss Morton, for wishing to intrude, but, 
with your permission, I shall be most happy to share your 
solitary retreat.” 

“Why, certainly, Mr. Underwood; come in, by all 
means, if it will afford you any pleasure,” Rosalind re- 
plied, endeavoring to appear calm and collected; but in 
spite of her effort to do so, the rosy blushes covered her 
cheeks and her heart was beating loudly while she made 
room for him beside her. 

“You know it is said that misery likes company,” she 
added, half seriously. 


230 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“I hope I am not to understand from that that you 
have been miserable? ” he asked in the same tone of semi- 
seriousness. 

“Not exactly, though I must confess that, not only the 
gloom of the day, but the poem I have been reading im- 
pressed me seriously, or rather made me, what is com- 
monly termed, blue.” 

“I see it is Longfellow’s most pathetic poem, Evange- 
line; did the fact of our being on the Canada side sug- 
gest to you this reading?” 

“Yes; that was why I selected it — history having 
pointed us to the fact that Canada was truly the Acadian 
land, which Longfellow has so beautifully described.” 

“Longfellow has indeed most touchingly and beau- 
tifully described the Acadians as the happiest and most 
prosperous of people at the time they were driven out, 
and it seems that it was as hard for them to have to give 
up their lovely possessions as it was for our foreparents 
to be driven from the Garden of Eden. In regard to 
Evangeline, some critic has complained that Longfellow’s 
idea of making a martyr of a French woman, as he did of 
Evangeline, was erroneous; since the French are naturally 
frivolous and pleasure-loving people, and while their fickle- 
ness is the most predominant characteristic of their na- 
ture, the poet has imbued his heroine with more constancy 
than a dozen women would have exercised under any cir- 
cumstances. But this critic should have remembered 
that the idealized maiden was represented by the poet as; 
belonging to the simple-minded country folks who were 
not acquainted with le beau monde Paris; tho’ their lands 


AT NIAGARA. 


231 


were rich and yielded abundantly and they were blessed 
with plenty, still they continued in their plain manner of 
living, Evangeline having no higher aspiration than to 
attend to her home duties and await the coming of her 
lover, altogether far too natural to be fickle. After all, 
I am inclined to think that the simple, unpretentious life, 
is by far the happiest,” Gerald added, sadly; and Rosa- 
lind not only noticed how serious his tone had become, 
but she saw, too, the old look of weariness and disgust 
written upon his face. 

“Nature intended you for a poet,” she said, involun- 
tarily. “You do not care any more for wealth and social 
position than a hermit of the mountains. If it were not 
so, why should you be dissatisfied and unhappy?” 

“I am not, literally speaking, but I have seen the 
world in all its phases, and have found more contentment 
among the unpretentious country people than any other 
class, they are not puzzling over problematical questions 
or reaching out for anything beyond their crude compre- 
hensions; their ideas are concentrated upon the simple 
routine of their everyday life. What could be more sub- 
lime, or accord more perfectly with the evening, when 
the peaceful rest that would follow the labor of the day 
would come, than these lines of Longfellow, which are 
descriptive of the hour? 

‘ Now recommences the reign of rest and affection and stillness. 

Day with its burdens and heat had departed and twilight descend- 
ing, 

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the 
homestead. 

Foremost, bearing the bells, Evangeline’s beautiful heifer, 


232 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Proud of her snow-white hide and ribbon that waved from her 
collar, 

Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. 

Lowing- of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the farm- 
yard. 

Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into stillness; 

Heavily closed with jarring sound, the valves of the barn doors 

Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent.’ 

“But I must not weary you longer by having you listen 
to me recite. 1 fear I have already taxed your patience 
beyond endurance, and humbly ask your forgiveness,” 
Gerald ended, by saying apologetically. 

“Indeed, you have not; please go on — I would never 
tire of listening,” Kosalind replied, eagerly. 

“I will read the poem to you sometime, if you desire 
it, but I cannot repeat any more of it at present, as I only 
remember portions of verse here and there, and recited 
them promiscuously, as you doubtless observed.” 

While they talked the rain had ceased, and now the 
light of a golden sunset touched the veranda, and, in 
slanting rays, rested upon the face of the speaker, irra- 
diating it with a tranquil glory. 

“How I wish he was happy always and discontent 
would never come to him,” Rosalind mentally solilo- 
quised, as she noted the peaceful expression that illumined 
his countenance; then added, “If I could only make him 
happier, no sacrifice would be too great.” 

At this inopportune moment, Fred, catching sight of 
the two in the window, came running in great haste to- 
wards them and, from his eager manner, evidently had 
something of vast import to communicate. 


AT NIAGARA. 


233 


“It’s just too jolly to keep, and I am awfully glad I 
spied you all out. Just think of it, a party of real Eng- 
lish lords have just arrived here,” he proclaimed, with 
emphasis, “and one of them is a real menagerie, a dandy, 
and a fop, and tries to be so swell, with his eye-glass, 
and baby walking stick, and French valet, and leaves off 
his Irs, don’t-you-know; and won’t I have a picnic? 
hurrah for Johnny Bull! ” he wound up, flinging his cap 
around his head, and crying out jubilantly, then broke 
into a merry laugh, in which he was joined by Rosalind 
and Gerald. The boy’s gay spirits acted like a charm 
upon the two, both of whom greatly enjoyed the droll 
description he had given of the titled Englishman, and 
when his mirth had somewhat subsided, Gerald said: 

“Perhaps you are not aware of the fact that you are a 
perfect facsimile of Peck’s bad boy, and, if I am not 
overestimating your ability, fame and fortune no doubt 
awaits you on the American stage, in that exclusive role. 
I shall speak to father about the matter, and inform him 
that I have at last (iiscovered your forte, having so often 
heard him conjecturing as to what you were best fltted 
for.” 

Gerald maintained such a serious tone of voice through- 
out this speech that, for some moments, Fred appeared 
at a loss to decipher whether he was jesting or really in 
earnest. However, the boy was too sharp to be outwitted ; 
so, setting his cap to one side of his head, and leaning 
upon his umbrella in the most nonchalant manner possi- 
ble, he vociferated, “Will you? well, by joe!” 

A few minutes afterward the trio separated for the 


234 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


purpose of getting ready for dinner, and the delightful 
tete-a-tete between Rosalind and Gerald for this day at 
least was ended, for when they next met it was in com- 
pany with the rest of the party at the dinner table. But 
within the heart of each there lingered the pleasant mem- 
ory of their meeting, and long after the others slept Ros- 
alind lay awake calling to mind and repeating over the 
portions of verse Gerald had recited to her, while he, in- 
cited also to a poetical mood through this interview, at 
the same time was sitting in his room dreamily conning 
over some lines from Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s poems of 
passion, and it is easy to guess of whom he was thinking 
as he repeated softly: 

“ ‘ When my blood flows calm as a purling river, 

When my heart is asleep and my brain has sway, 

It is then that I vow we must part forever — 

That I will forget thee and put thee away. 

“ ‘ Out of my life as a dream is banished. 

Out of the mind when the dreamer awakes — 

That I know it will be when the spellthas vanished 
Better for both our sakes.’ ” 

“Yes, better for both our sakes!” he added, sadly, as 
he arose and strode up and down his room; then he looked 
at his watch and found the hands pointing to two o’clock. 


CHAPTER XY. 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 

^HE next morning it so happened that all the party 
were breakfasting at the same time, with the exception 
of Fred, who as yet had not put in an appearance. The 
Judge had just remarked upon the fact of his absence, 
when he came in, his eyes bright and his face glowing 
with the exercise of his morning walk. But there was 
something else that had called up that mischievous 
twinkle in their hazel depths besides the fresh morning 
air, and to each one of the party it was plain to see that 
he was brimful of news and only waiting the opportunity 
of communicating it. Gerald seeing his anxiety to speak, 
and knowing, too, that the strict decorum of his father 
prevented him from doing so, said: 

“Well, Fred, I presume you have become well ac- 
quainted with the English party in this time; have you 
been interviewing them this morning?” 

“No, I have not; I don’t suppose their majesties will 
show up until about luncheon time; but I did have a little 
talk with them last night, and found Lord Waverly im- 
mense. But I don’t think any of you can guess who 
came this morning?” he added, interrogatively, looking 
around from one to the other and letting his eyes rest on 
Hetty. 

Upon this the elder sister changed color rapidly, and 
in a tone of dismay asked: 

235 


236 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Who in the world are you speaking of, Fred? not the 
the Nortons, I trust?” 

“What a good guesser you are, sister; yes, you are 
right, it’s the Nortons; they were among the new arrivals 
this morning. Now to see her look cheap,” the boy 
added to Gerald, sotto-voce.” 

“I am completely dumbfounded and exceedingly an- 
noyed, and half inclined to take the next south-bound 
train,” expostulated Henrietta, nervously, emphasizing 
each syllable and looking everything that she had ex- 
pressed. 

“No, no, do not think of anything so foolish; why 
should you care for their coming? every one here are 
strangers to us anyhow, so there is no use of feeling bad 
over it after all,” said her father, in a cohciliatory tone. 

' am really not surprised that Hetty should not wish 
to recognize Mrs. Norton even among strangers, for in 
my opinion she is the most ill-bred person I have ever 
met who .makes any pretense whatever towards society,” 
proclaimed Mrs. Porter, haughtily. 

“Well, that is the misfortune of ignorance, for which 
the woman is hardly responsible; but on Norton’s account 
treat her civilly when you meet her. Politeness never 
hurts any one, and when we cease to be polite, even to 
our inferiors, we disregard the most essential feature of 
good breeding; I do not wish to encroach on your time, 
but if you will bear with me I would like to illustrate the 
truth of what I was trying to impress upon you.” 

They all bowed assent, and the Judge continued: 

“After General Washington had become great and re- 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


237 


nowned the world over he w^s riding along one day in 
company with a comrade officer, when they were met by 
an old negro, who, agreeable to the custom of menials at 
that time, took off his hat and bowed reverently to the 
two. What was the surprise of the other officer, to 
see Washington, in answer to the old negro’s greeting,* 
take off his own hat also. Whereupon being questioned 
in the most astonished manner by his friend, Washington 
replied, ‘Yes, I took off my hat to the old darkey, he 
having done so to me, for it shall never be said that a 
poor, ignorant negro could show more politeness than 
George Washington.’ ” 

Then, by way of emphasizing his conclusion. Judge 
Underwood arose from the table, and saying that he 
would join them on the veranda in time for starting out 
on their day’s excursion, quitted the diningroom. 

“Chestnuts!” exclaimed Fred, making wry faces at 
Millie across the table as soon as the pater had fairly 
vanished; and Millie replied by asking: 

“Isn’t it a wonder that papa did not tell us the story of 
the little hatchet also?” 

At this they all laughed and arose from the table; and 
while the ladies grouped together for a little chat, the 
gentlemen went out on the veranda to indulge in their 
after-breakfast cigar. 

Quite a number of places had been mapped out for the 
day while the party were breakfasting, and while the la- 
dies were discussing their day’s outing, Hetty said: 

“We can at least avoid meeting that horrid Mrs. Nor- 
ton to-day by not returning to luncheon, and if we visit 


238 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the different places mentioned we will consequently not 
get back to the hotel until late this evening. I am not 
positive that I will remain here twenty-four hours longer, 
hence it is best that we gratify the curiosity of the 
younger members of our party by taking in every avail- 
able place of note to-day.” 

So it was agreed that they would remain out all day, 
and a hamper of eatables was ordered to be sent out 
also, each seeming highly elated at the idea of devoting 
the remainder of the day rambling amongst the pictur- 
esque haunts pertaining to localities about the falls. All 
except the three debutantes and Fred had visited Niagara 
before, hence it was not so much the desire of Hettie and 
JVlrs. Porter to again view the environments of the won- 
derful falls as it was to avoid as long as possible a meet- 
ing with the Nortons. 

The ladies were not long in equipping themselves for 
the excursion, hence when the carriages which were to 
convey the party were announced they were all in readi- 
ness and hastened out, fearing that even at the very last 
minute they might encounter their undesired acquaint- 
ances. However, their fears upon this score proved 
groundless, as there was no sign of them visible; but just 
as they were in the act of starting, Fred, who had perched 
himself on the box beside the driver of the forward coupe, 
called their attention to the fact that ‘‘the dude English- 
man was able to be out,” and much to the amusement of 
all except Gerald they beheld the titled fop standing on 
the steps of the veranda, his hat tilted towards his nose 
and leaning, as Fred would have termed it, in a hipshot 


239 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 

fashion upon a miniature walking-stick, and with an air 
of conceited nonchalance, sweeping the party with his 
oyeglass. Upon observing this Gerald frowned darkly and 
gave orders to the advance coachman to drive on. 

“A pretty piece of impertinence, I must say,” he ex- 
postulated, as he stepped into the third and last carriage 
drawn up in line, in which Kosalind, Millie, and Edgar 
Wilkerson, had already entered and were making them- 
selves comfortable. It had so happened that Judge Un- 
derwood, after handing Mrs. Porter and Henrietta in the 
first carriage, with Mr. Barton had taken the front seat 
of the same, little dreaming, however, of the disappoint- 
ment and chagrin he had so unintentionally awakened 
within the breast of the fair widow, who had fully ex- 
pected Gerald to be her escort, on this occasion in par- 
ticular. But not so; for, naturally enough, after Nellie, 
Nettie, and the two cadets, had ensconced themselves in 
the second coupe, it had fallen to the lot of Gerald and 
Edgar to find accommodations in the third; though this 
arrangement had proven most agreeable to all concerned, 
it had neither been premeditated or prearranged, but was 
altogether an accident. Lewiston mountain, seven miles 
distant from the falls, was the projected trip for the fore- 
noon, and as it was then past ten, there was little enough 
time to reach their destination and take a view of their 
surroundings before the noon hour; hence they were driven 
as briskly as possible up the mountain, and were accord- 
ingly nearing the summit, when something occurred to de- 
tain the rear coach. At the very time they were climb- 
ing the steepest of the ascent, one of the horses became 


240 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


perverse, refusing to budge a step farther, and, notwith- 
standing the stinging lash of the driver, the animal 
continued in its obstinacy, rearing and plunging, and 
going backward instead of forward, making the situa- 
tion a rather precarious one for the occupants of the ve- 
hicle. Millie grew very much frightened, and begged 
pathetically that they would all get out and walk up the 
steepest acclivity, or at least remain out of the car- 
riage until the horses became more docile and manage- 
able, and to appease his sister, Gerald consented to do 
so. Thus it was that they were left some distance behind 
the forward carriages. Quite a little walk yet remained 
to them before they would reach the spot designated, 
hence they left the highway and meandered along a nar- 
row footpath, almost losing their balance at times by the 
giving away of the sandy gravel beneath their feet, which 
would go rattling down the mountain side. However, 
the two girls, assisted by the gentlemen, fought their 
way upward until they at last reached the level. Gerald 
escorted Rosalind, and by some means the two couples 
had taken different paths, thus becoming separated. And 
when they had finished their fatiguing journey, and 
Rosalind stood before Gerald with heightened color and 
a bright sparkle in her pansy-blue eyes, never had she 
appeared more charmingly lovely to him — not even when 
in his surprise he had encountered her in her headlong 
flight from Ivy Crown; for then there had been a fright- 
ened look in her eyes, which were now so smiling and 
happy in expression. “How pure and spotless she ap- 
pears, and how devoid of art,” he mentally soliloquized. 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


241 


as he noted the perfect chiseling of the features — the soft 
cheeks aglow with recent exercise and maidenly blushes; 
the red lips slightly apart, through which the excited 
breath came quickly; the rich, brown hair, gleaming 
golden-like in the sunlight, altogether making her a pic- 
ture fair to behold. And while she stood there gazing 
on the lovely scene afforded her from the elevated height, 
breathing the pure and vivifying atmosphere, and fanned 
by the cool breezes of the mountain, Gerald asked him- 
self how it was possible for him to cease loving this 
angelic child-woman, who, as it seemed, had taken hold 
upon every fibre of his being, heart, soul and body. At 
that moment he realized the power of her beauty over 
him, and felt within his own heart and mind that it was 
useless to try longer to resist its masterful influence. 
Again he felt all the tenderness of his nature reawakened, 
and to himself he acknowledged that this girl was the one 
thing needful to his happiness, and, without her, life 
would indeed be unsatisfied and incomplete. As to Kosa- 
lind, she had experienced many heart thrills while Gerald 
supported her up the mountain path, and though he had 
appeared cold and indifferent towards her of latd, she felt 
intuitively as he stood there, looking through her eyes 
into her very soul, that he did care for her very much 
after all; for, if ever love shone in any man’s eyes, it 
surely was revealed in his. 

They were alone, having become separated from Millie 
and Edgar as before described, and, though the two were 
not so far away but what their merry chatter could be 
heard, still they were not visible and their words were 
16 


242 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


not distinguishable; and Gerald felt that he would like to 
open his heart then and there, and tell Rosalind how dear 
she had become to hina and how all his hopes of future 
happiness depended upon her, and ask her in plain words 
to explain to him what he had seen and heard between 
herself and Edgar Wilkerson in the rose arbor, upon that 
never-to-be-forgotten night at Ivy Crown. But stubborn 
pride forbade him speaking, and as a patch of clouds 
suddenly obscured the sunlight, just so a mysterious dark- 
ness crossed his face and rested upon his handsome brow. 
Rosalind, observing him closely, noted the change in his 
countenance, and felt hurt and saddened by it; for she 
divined the cause at once. Her heart taught her their 
relative positions towards each other, and she knew that 
Gerald was laboring under false impressions regarding 
herself and Edgar; but how was it possible for her to ex- 
plain the situation or throw off the suspicion of herself 
and Edgar being lovers, without betraying the trust Millie 
had confided to her keeping? It was simply impossible! 
With a look of beseeching in her eyes, which were still 
fastened upon him, she said: 

“How quickly your moods change, Mr. Underwood. 
Only a few moments ago you appeared pleased and happy; 
now your face is overshadowed with gloom. Would you 
mind telling me the reason of this? ” 

Gerald’s face cleared a little as he met the anxious 
gaze and heard the softly pathetic tones interrogating 
him in such a simple child-like manner. 

“I fear you would think me the most inquisitive person 
in the world were I to ask you a question, or rather 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


243 


a number of them, which really concerns no one but your- 
self. ” 

“Certainly not, I will take pleasure in answering any 
question or questions that concern no one but myself,” 
she replied, frankly. 

“Then, before confessing to you my own regard, I 
would like to know what Edgar Wilkerson is to you?” he 
said, his voice faltering with emotion. 

“Will you take my word of honor without questioning 
its truth?” she asked, looking him straight in the eyes. 

And while those lovely blue orbs, so full of truth and 
womanly tenderness, were searching his own, he felt that 
under the spell of her presence it would be utterly im- 
possible to doubt anything she would tell him, so nat- 
urally enough he replied: 

“Since it would be simply impossible to couple your 
word with that of a falsehood, I could not do otherwise 
than believe anything coming from your lips.” 

His words were low and earnest, and, to Rosalind, full 
of meaning. 

“Thank you,” she said, in grave, sweet tones, “and 
now let me say to you that Edgar Wilkerson is nothing to 
me whatever but an acquaintance whom I respect and 
think deserving of credit.” 

“Then I was mistaken in supposing that it was a love 
scene upon which I accidentally stumbled some weeks ago 
at Ivy Crown?” he said, his face flushing and paling by 
turns. 

“No, it was not a love scene, and my being there alone 
with him did not in any way relate to myself; further- 
more I am not at liberty to explain.” 


244 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Enough! I should have remembered that you had 
given me no right to thus interrogate you; but believe 
me when I tell you it was not idle curiosity that prompted 
me to ask those questions, but on the contrary, the inter- 
est and kind feeling with which I have regarded you from 
the first of our acquaintance; and may I say it, those feel- 
ings have strengthened and intensified until I am at a loss 
to know to what extent they may reach; can you limit the 
bounds?” 

Before Rosalind could form a reply, Millie’s voice, 
sounding but a short distance away, interrupted them; 
then she and Edgar appeared right in their midst. 

“I came to tell you that the others are looking for us, 
and that Fred has been making the woods ring with his 
hideous war-whoops; so before answering him I thought 
it best for us all to get together and file up in proper 
style, and then, as Fred says, we will be strictly in it,” 
laughed Millie, gayly, all unaware of the fact that she 
had cut short a conversation which was unmistakably 
verging upon an avowal of love from Gerald, and would 
no doubt have ended in a full and comprehensive under- 
standing between he and Rosalind; truly — 

“ Of all sad words of tongfue or pen, 

The saddest are these: ‘ It might have been.’ ” 

But notwithstanding the fact that Gerald had not fully 
confessed his love to Rosalind, she felt blissfully content, 
for had not his eyes, those wondrous speaking orbs, and 
the whole expression of his face, told her plainer than 
any words the sentiment of his heart? And then, too„ 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


245 


had there come no interruption he would have surely 
breathed to her the old and oft-repeated story that either 
makes or mars the happiness of man and woman. This 
was definite enough, and satisfactory enough also, and a 
thrill of the most pleasurable emotion darted through her 
heart as she realized at last the true state of his feelings 
towards her. Hence it was with the greatest zest she 
joined in Millie’s merry chatter while they followed the 
zigzag pathway which led to where the other members of 
the party had assembled themselves preparatory to 
lunching. Overhead were the golden lights and the pur- 
ple sky, while beneath their feet was the gravelly path- 
way, yet Rosalind saw nothing but the brightness above; 
she was not conscious of any difficulty in walking, for her 
footsteps were as light as air; and to her there was a sen- 
timent in everything. Even the chicken and tongue 
sandwiches, which were so temptingly spread out upon 
their arrival on the spot where the others were awaiting 
them, even these viands, that at any other time would 
have tasted common-place enough, seemed imbued with 
a new and delicious flavor; in truth there was a joy in 
everything, and life had become to her full and complete. 
Never before had the sunlight sparkled and glowed so 
bewitchingly, or the trees worn such lovely green, or the 
birds caroled forth such exquisite melody; and in all 
this beauty and music of nature she heard Gerald’s voice 
speaking to her in the same low, sweet tone in which he 
had spoken a little while before. Her heart was attuned 
to all lovely sights and sounds, for under the magical 
touch of love it had fully awakened, and to one like our 


246 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


heroine, wlio was especially endowed with all the finer 
senses which constitute heart, soul and body, what could 
have been higher, purer, or more ennobling than the 
merging of all these lofty attributes into the one grand 
passion called love? How often in the dark days of the 
not distant future did Rosalind recall this as the very 
happiest day her life had ever known? And when look- 
ing back through the shadowy mist and gloom that en- 
compassed her, it seemed that after all it had not been a 
reality, but only a beautiful dream. 

After lunching and enjoying the magnificent view of 
the lovely stretch of the surrounding country afforded 
them from the mountain, our party continued their search 
for amusement by visiting Brock’s monument, when, 
after lingering a short time, they proceeded to Fort 
Niagara, a distance of fourteen miles from their hotel, 
which consequently detained them until a late hour; 
thus Hetty’s wish had its fulfillment, as it was fully 
nine o’clock when they reached the Clifton House. 
Owing to the lateness of the hour there was no time for 
the ladies to dress for dinner, so with a little rearrange- 
ment of their toilettes they descended en suite to the 
diningroom, hoping to find it almost if not entirely va- 
cated. But not so, for it appeared that, like themselves, 
most of the visitors had also come in late, while some 
were even later than they were. But happily for them, 
the table which had been assigned Judge Underwood for 
the exclusive use of his party was quite near the entrance, 
hence their coming in served to attract but little atten- 
tion. Yet this was not all, for they had scarcely become 
seated before Fred called out in a stage whisper: 


AN EVENTFUL DAY.- 


247 


“Great Jerusalem; just look at the masher!” at the 
same time indicating with a nod of his head the direction 
where the Nortons were seated, and though they were re- 
moved a safe distance, they were not so far but that the 
conspicuous dress of the lady, in every detail, could 
be plainly observed; and, notwithstanding the fact that 
Fred’s so-termed rudeness elicited a reprimand from his 
father, he was more than rewarded for his pains by seeing 
the glances of disgust exchanged between his sister Het- 
tie and Mrs. Porter. It was no wonder, for never had 
the exceeding bad taste of “their neighbor’s wife” been 
more effectually displayed than on this occasion. The 
flashy red satin which she wore would have been unbe- 
coming enough to her sallow, washed-out complexion, 
had it been modeled after a neat and elegant style, but 
cut as it was — decollete — with sleeves scarcely reaching 
the elbow, thus showing off to the greatest possible dis- 
advantage the skinny arms and unshapely hands, she 
appeared simply ridiculous; while emerging from the bil- 
lows of creamy lace, puffed and frilled about the low 
bodice, the thin neck and face appeared even more in- 
significant and diminutive than ever. To complete her 
showy toilette, the pale blonde hair had been crimped and 
curled to its very roots, and upon each sallow cheek 
glowed a vivid spot of carmine. Altogether, she appeared 
more like a burlesque performer ready to step before the 
footlights in comic opera, than as a representative of the 
fairest land upon which the sun ever shone — the blue- 
grass region of Kentucky. And while the Underwoods, 
who were truly the high-born and blooded people of that 


248 


JROSALIND MORTON. 


locality, witnessed the spectacle this brainless woman was 
making of herself, they felt ready to sink through the 
floor with shame and mortification, their native pride hav- 
ing indeed received a severe shock. Eosalind felt moved 
to pity for the woman; for, while listening to her sense- 
less conversation on the several former occasions of their 
meetings, she had learned that Mrs. Norton’s advantages 
of education had been extremely limited, and that she 
could lay no claim whatever to culture; hence this gen- 
erous girl thought her more to be pitied than blamed, for 
what else could be expected of the conceited creature, 
with whom ignorance was paramount. During this time 
the innocent cause of all this perturbation was neverthe- 
less enjoying herself while she sat there noting the many 
glances of, what she deemed, admiration cast towards her, 
and feeling confident of the fact that she was the most 
admired woman in the diningroom. This idea argued 
greatly to her complacency of manner towards her hus- 
band. But though she beamed upon him her most pleas- 
ing smiles, poor Norton felt ill at ease and his face had 
grown as red as a lobster. He had realized the fact that 
his wife’s gaudy apparel was attracting much attention, 
and that she was making him, as well as herself, a laugh- 
ing stock, and, though he was not usually very quick of 
comprehension, in this case he was forced to draw the 
line of discrimination, and mark the difference between 
loudness and true gentility of dress and manner. Never 
had he felt a deeper regret for his unwise choice than at 
that moment. About this time, however, he caught a 
glimpse of the Underwood party, and seeing the modest 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


249 


and unpretentious appearance the ladies were making in 
their eton suits, his discomfiture knew no bounds. 

‘‘I told you not to wear that dress,” he whispered, 
hoarsely. “And beside these other ladies you look like 
a regular scarecrow; why won’t you exercise a little com- 
mon sense once in a while and not make a blamed fool of 
yourself?” he interrogated, purple with rage. 

“Oh, you are only jealous because the gentlemen are 
all looking at me, that’s all,” she returned, raising her 
voice a key higher and giving him a scornful glance. “I 
must not allow the old fogy to make me mad, for it makes 
such an ugly mark across my forehead when my temper 
gets up, and I won’t do him the favor of getting riled,” 
were her mental cogitations and conclusions, while she 
listened to his fault-finding, at the same time letting her 
eyes rove over the room in search of new conquests, 
feeling more flattered than ever on finding the eyes of the 
dude Englishman fixed upon her, who, having met her 
free glance, adjusted his eyeglass and sat back in his 
chair to take a more critical survey. “Mauvais gout,” 
he said, sotto voce, turning to his companion, after hav- 
ing studied her face and general make-up for a few mo- 
ments. 

“Another mash; and ain’t he a stunner?” was her 
mental query, as she observed the impertinent stare with 
which the new arrival was regarding her. 

Ever since this unfortunate couple had entered the 
diningroom, they had excited curiosity and amusement; 
in truth, several young girls, inclined to be somewhat 
giddy, sitting directly opposite them, were compelled to 


250 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


place their napkins over their mouths many times during 
the meal for the purpose of stifling their mirth. Norton 
had not mentioned having seen the Underwoods enter, 
for he felt, intuitively, that they would not care to recog- 
nize his wife, making the disgusting appearance that she, 
without a doubt, was making on that evening in particu- 
lar. The ladies of the Underwood party did not linger 
as they usually did over the dinner table; instead, how- 
ever, they partook sparingly of the various courses, which 
were removed successively almost untasted, and, after 
having gone through a semblance of dining, they left the 
table as quietly as they had entered, and hastened to their 
own apartments. Just as they were passing out of the 
room Mrs. Norton discovered them, and, turning to her 
husband, asked, “Why didn’t you tell me the Under- 
woods were in the diningroom?” 

“I might have told you if you had worn a more decent 
dress,” was the husband’s sharp retort; “but I see the 
Judge is still at the table, and if you will come along now 
we will get to speak to him,” he added, in a more con- 
ciliatory tone, at the same time rising and leading the 
way in the direction of Judge Underwood’s table. While 
speaking to his wife a few moments before, he had sud 
denly met the eyes of this gentleman looking kindly and 
pityingly towards him, hence the change in his demeanor 
towards her. Upon reaching the table where sat their well- 
bred neighbor, both the father and Gerald rose and 
gave them a hearty handshake — so characteristic of the 
true Kentuckian — which had the effect of placing the 
great awkward fellow at a comparative ease of manner. 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


251 


In answer to Mrs. Norton’s inquiry concerning the 
ladies, Judge Underwood replied, “They are all very 
well, thank you, but having been out all day are very 
much fatigued, and have retired to their rooms to make 
themselves comfortable.” Then in his suave, polite way, 
he asked if slie would join them, while her husband went 
out with him for a smoke. 

But thinking the parlors far better suited to her elab- 
orate toilette, the lady refused by saying, affectedly, “I 
shall be glad to have Tom go and smoke with you, but I 
won’t go up to see your folks to-night, but will wait for 
him in the parlor.” 

Henry and Edwin chanced to hear this remark, and 
hastened to the parlor with a view of having “lots of 
fun;” and it so happened, while the Judge and Norton 
smoked their cigars on the veranda, these young men en- 
tertained the foolish woman in the parlor by talking the 
veriest nonsense and pouring into her willing ears the 
most extravagant flattery. In the meantime Hetty, Mrs. 
Porter and Nellie were congregated in the room of the 
former deploring the possibility, or rather the probability, 
of meeting the outlandish creature, as Henrietta termed 
the new arrival from their highly favored locality, and 
while the three were thus engaged, Millie and Nettie 
played dominos and Kosalind wrote a letter home to her 
Aunt Yilinda. 

It was wonderful to see the enlivening effect Judge 
Underwood’s conversation produced upon Norton, but no 
one knew as well as he how to handle the subject which 
mostly interested him, and that subject was nothing more 


252 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


nor less than horse, for when necessary Judge Under- 
wood could talk horse as entertainingly as the most veri- 
table jockey. And while these two men, who by birth 
were of the same social degree, but whom association had 
rendered so dissimilar, discussed this theme, Fred listened 
attentively, thereby drawing many conclusions. 

During this time Mrs. Norton, feeling convinced that 
her belleship was fast asserting itself, sat by the parlor 
window overlooking the veranda, and while she played 
the agreeable to the two cadets, was not surprised to see 
the Englishman, who had attracted her attention at dinner, 
saunter leisurely by, adjust his eye-glass, and give her, 
what a more modest woman would have deemed, a 
most impudent stare. But as the woman in question was 
not troubled with delicate sensibilities, nor in this case 
does the flower of courtesy bear handling, for as defect in 
manners is usually the defect of fine perceptions, Mrs. 
Norton was spared the knowledge of there being any- 
thing improper in such conduct on the part of the Eng- 
lishman, she having yet to learn that a gentleman makes 
no noise while a lady is serene; and notwithstanding 
her diamonds had cost Norton a cool five thousand and 
her showy dress was composed of the most expensive 
materials, all of these possessions were not one-fourth 
equal in value to the fine qualities of good breeding. 

‘‘A fine bird, by Joe, if the saying that ‘fine feathers 
make fine birds’ be true, but if I am not mistaken she has 
the look and manners of a parvenue. I wonder if the 
diamonds she wears are weal; if they are, by Joe, they 
are worth a few thousand, and it must be that they are 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


253 


weal, for I see her husband in company with that swell 
old Judge from Kentucky, and after all the game may be 
worth the candle. Arry, old boy, it may be that at last 
you have struck luck, by Joe!” 

Thus soliloquized the wily English lord while he prom- 
enaded the veranda of the Clifton House, and, agreeable 
to his matter-of-fact way of terming it, sized up the situ- 
ation. Then observing Fred, and recognizing him as one 
of the Kentucky party, he immediately decided to culti- 
vate the lad’s acquaintance, and as soon as an opportunity 
offered itself ask him all about the woman whose dia- 
monds had so interested him. Suiting the action to the 
thought, he stepped up to the boy, and in his pompous 
manner said, in the blandest of English tones: 

“Ow are you, my lad? I am weally glad to find you 
alone, as I have been trying all day to get better ac- 
quainted with you.” 

The attitude, as well as the conceited manner of the 
Englishman, was most amusing to Fred, but seeing an 
opportunity for a good time, and that his anticipated pic- 
nic with the English swell was a sure thing, he overcame 
his desire to laugh, and affecting as serious manner as 
possible, gracefully raised his cap, and in wonderful 
mimicry of his father offered his hand: 

“Thank you, sir, for the honor; my name is Fred Un- 
derwood, and I live in Kentucky.” 

“And I am Lord Arry Waverly, of England, but you 
and I, Master Fred, must not use any ceremony, there- 
fore with you, my dear boy, it must be simply Arry, and 
I will call you Freddy; isn’t that proper, my dear boy?” 


254 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


‘‘Oh, yes, perfectly proper, I should think, at least as 
far as you calling me by my name is concerned, but I 
could never think of calling you, a real living lord, by 
your Christian name.” 

“But I am so much like a boy myself that I long for 
the companionship of boys, and my heart warms towards 
a lad like yourself, don’t-you-know, and I sincerely ope 
we may be such good friends that you will forget the fact 
that I am a lord and call me Arry, simply Arry, my 
dear boy! ” 

“Simple Arry,” echoed Fred, under his breath. “That 
would be about the most suitable name 1 could call you.” 
Then he said, aloud: 

“Why, of course, we will be good friends. I am from 
Kentucky, don’t-you-know, and I suppose you. have heard 
what jolly, friendly people, Kentuckians are?” 

“Yes, indeed! fine country, fine orses, fine whiskey, 
and pretty women — excellent, my dear boy, excellent, 
don’t-you-know.” 

It was as much as Fred could do to keep from howling 
with laughter while listening to the gushing harangue of 
his new acquaintance, but he managed to control his ris- 
ibles by the greatest effort, maintaining, too, a look of 
mimic solemnity and very much impressing the English- 
man with his mature manner and extraordinary intelli- 
gence. After a short silence. Lord Harry recommenced 
the conversation by saying: 

“So you are visiting Niagara for the first time, I dare 
say, my dear boy, and I want you to tell me what you 
think of this great combined wonder of England and 
America. ” 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


255 


“Oh, I think it the grandest thing in nature, even 
grander than the Mammoth Cave, Kentucky’s wonder; 
have you ever visited it, Lord Harry? ” 

“Ko, my dear boy, not yet, but we will perhaps do so 
while we are on this tour. But you should go abroad, 
my dear boy, and see what grandeur and glory the old 
country holds — England for an example, with its beauti- 
ful landed estates, don’t-you-know, and lovely old manor 
bouses, and clipped yew trees, and flower gardens, and 
peacocks that strut about from sunrise until sunset. Oh! 
I can not half describe to you, my dear boy, the beauties 
of dear old England, but leave it to your youthful imag- 
ination; just close your eyes and believe yourself in para- 
dise, and you will have a vision of what I have tried to 
tell you about.” 

“I wonder where the rooster thinks I have been all my 
life?” thought Fred, contemptuously, “giving me such 
as that. But I must not get my Kentucky spunk up, for 
if I do all my fun will be knocked out; so it only remains 
for me to be civil.” Aloud, he said: 

“I suppose it must be all pretty fine, Lord Harry, but 
if you travel through Kentucky while on your tour, you 
will see some nice old country houses, where there are 
flowers, trees, and peacocks in abundance.” 

“Yes, yes, my dear boy! no doubt it is quite nice 
there, but then it is all so new, don’t-you-know! and it 
will take many years to give those places the look of the 
dwellings of aristocracy. It will never be anything like 
England; never while any of the present generation exist.” 

“I only wish the conceited donkey could see Ivy 


256 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Crown,” mused Fred, “but I wouldn’t dare to ask him 
there, for he is the very kind of a man Gerry would freeze 
out in a jiffy.” 

During this silence Lord Harry had taken a few long 
strides nearer the window where Mrs. Norton sat, and, 
having given her another survey, returned to Fred and 
continued the subject by asking: 

“Are you aware, my dear boy, that you are at this 
moment standing on English soil, while right over there 
is your own country, don’t-you-knowl ” 

“Yes, I believe my geography informed me of the fact 
that Canada belongs to England; but say. Lord Harry, 
don’t you think it was a pretty shabby thing in the Eng- 
lish to drive the French people from here, after they had 
made themselves such nice homes and gotten so well 
fixed ? ” 

“That was a long time ago, my dear boy; however, 
England was the rightful owner of the country, though 
the French claimed it, don’t-you-know. But, Freddie, 
my dear boy, you remember that we were becoming good 
friends; therefore we must not find cause to differ in 
opinion, don’t-you-know. You are a Kentuckian, and I 
am an English — ” 

“Lord,” interposed Fred. “I shall certainly not for- 
get the honor, sir,” he added, touching his hat. 

“Well, you are a good one, by Joe,” replied the swell, 
appearing much pleased over Fred’s flattery; “but I was 
not going to remind you of that fact, my dear boy, but 
only going to say that I was an Englishman, that was all, 
I can assure you, my dear boy.” 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


257 


As the conversation between Lord Harry and Fred 
progressed, the bright lad grew more amused and dis- 
gusted every moment. The idea of a coxcomb like him 
representing the nobility of any nation seemed absurd to 
the boy, for it had never occurred to him that a lord could 
be anything but noble in appearance and lofty-minded. 
One can imagine his disappointment, when brought face 
to face with this petit-maitre, and it was evident that 
henceforward his opinion of the blue blood of England 
would be considerably dwarfed. And while Fred was 
making a diagnosis of the Englishman’s character, on the 
other hand, the titled gentleman was considering whether 
or not it would be good policy to ask Master Fred some- 
thing about the owner of the handsome diamonds. But, 
as luck would have it, Fred did not wait to be interro- 
gated. Having seen the direction in which Lord Harry’s 
eyes had so frequently wandered while engaging him in 
conversation, the quick-witted little fellow had, prover- 
bially speaking, smelled a rat; and, while not being exactly 
able to define the attraction Mrs. Horton had for the lord, 
he realized the fact that his anticipated fun would surely 
have its fulfillment by throwing the two together, hence 
his course of action was decided upon at once. 

“1 say. Lord Harry, how would you like to get ac- 
quainted with a Kentucky lady? ” he asked, lowering his 
voice and speaking in the most confidential tone. 

“Well, weally, my dear boy, if she is anything like 
you, I should like it very much! very much, indeed! my 
dear boy.” 

“Well, as she is no relation of mine, and only happens 
17 


258 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


to live in our neighborhood, I cannot say that she in any 
way resembles any of my family, but her husband’s farm 
joins papa’s, and he is as rich as Croesus, owns one of the 
finest stock farms in our county, and has lots of money 
besides, and papa says he came of one of the best fami- 
lies of Kentucky; but he is a regular old fogy, and has 
nothing to say unless papa will talk horse to him, then 
he’s in his glory. But come along. Lord Harry, and get 
acquainted with his wife; she can talk enough for you 
and two or three more, and is the kind of a woman to 
give a fellow a good time, so the young men of our party 
say, and if you want to get in jolly company I will take 
you to the parlor and give you the knocking down.” 

“The what?” inquired Lord Harry, stepping back, with 
a look of alarm. 

“Oh, don’t be scared; I only meant I would introduce 
you to her, and that was just my slang way of putting 
it,” explained Fred, ready to explode with laughter as he 
led the way to the parlor. 

Little did the boy think how by this act of gratifying 
his innocent love of amusement he was playing into the 
hands of a broken-down English peer, whose notoriety as 
a gambler and debauche was widespread throughout 
England, and whose debts far exceeded his income, and 
who, notwithstanding his title, was nothing more nor less 
than an adventurer, with no conscientious scruples in re- 
gard to the accomplishment of his own selfish purposes. 
Ho, indeed! Fred, tho’ bright and full of fun, was far 
too innocent minded to conceive of the rascally scheming 
of the man whom he was escorting to the side of Tom 
Horton’s vain and foolish wife. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


gHE Underwood party (meaning the ladies) did not go 
down on the following morning until a late hour; not 
until Fred had brought them the news that the Nortons 
had left the diningroom could they be induced to enter 
it, Hetty being as intent as ever upon the idea of avoid- 
ing the disgusting woman as long as possible; it mattered 
not if everybody were strangers, still her native pride re- 
coiled from acknowledging her even in their presence, 
and the only sure method of not having to do so was to 
keep out of her way. 

All the party had very much enjoyed their visit to the 
falls, and up to the time of the arrival of the Nortons 
nothing had occurred to mar their felicity. Never had a 
hotel offered so many homelike comforts as had the Clif- 
ton House, and never had such inviting scenes presented 
themselves to view as on every side their eyes rested. 
The atmosphere, too, was pure and bracing, and each felt 
its invigorating effect. Under the judicious management 
of its present proprietor everything had undergone 
a wonderful improvement since Judge Underwood had 
previously accompanied his family hither, hence he was 
more enthusiastic in his expressions of admiration over 
everything than the others. The rare and beautiful speci- 
mens of flowers that grew in Victoria Park greatly inter- 

259 


260 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


ested him and called into action his botanical knowledge, 
also Rosalind’s assistance in analyzing them. 

This proved a very pleasant task to the girl; nature’s 
beauties were her greatest delight, and in the majestic 
grandeur of the falls and the combined loveliness of art and 
nature which environed them, she felt that she would love 
to gaze upon such scenes and listen to the mighty roar of 
glorious Niagara forever. What sweet language did its 
voice speak to her? What exultant, soul-inspiring songs did 
it sing to her while she sat under the spell of its magical 
sound, which awoke from the fathomless depths of her 
being an answering rhythm? And now the possibility of 
so soon leaving this magnificent piece of nature’s handi- 
work filled her heart with sadness, this having been the 
topic of the party over their late breakfast, they having 
all about decided upon taking their leave on the following 
day. 

Gerald had not had an opportunity of speaking to 
Rosalind alone since their excursion to Lewiston mountain, 
and tho’ that was only the day previous, it appeared ages 
to Rosalind. Just as they were leaving the table on 
the morning in question, however, they encountered him 
at the entrance door; bowing and smiling friendlily, he 
said: 

“Come, Miss Morton, since it is understood that we 
will leave here to-morrow, I will take yourself and Millie 
for a last trip around the falls; would you enjoy going?” 

“Yes, indeed, we will be delighted,” cried Millie, be- 
fore Rosalind could answer. 

“Thank you for your thoughtful kindness; I shall enjoy 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


231 


it very much, I am sure,” Rosalind replied to Gerald’s 
look of interrogation. 

“You dear old Gerry, I begin to think that you are 
the only trump in the game of chance that ever turns up 
at the right time,” expostulated Millie, running up to the 
big brother and patting his cheek caressingly. Then 
the two girls hastened up stairs to get their hats and 
light wraps preparatory to going, Gerald also sauntered 
out on the veranda to await them. Nellie and Nettie 
were in the parlor with the two cadets, the four hav- 
ing left the diningroom prior to the rest of the com- 
pany. Judge Underwood and Fred had gone out for a 
walk, hence Hetty and Mrs. Porter found themselves 
quite alone. 

“What a coquette that girl is! ” exclaimed Mrs. Porter, 
as soon as they had vanished from sight, and her tone 
was a trifle less serene than usual. 

Hetty did not reply, but, agreeable to her old habit, 
arched her eyebrows and looked inquisitive; then the two 
went slowly up the steps to Hetty’s room. 

“You do not seem the least curious to know why I ex- 
pressed myself as I did just now, ” the widow continued, 
sinking into a chair and putting on an aggrieved look. 

“Excuse me, Laura; I was only waiting for you to ex- 
plain of whom you were speaking,” Hetty replied, rather 
dryly. 

“Why, Rosalind Morton, of course; you surely did 
not suppose I was speaking of Millie? ” 

“In that case I think you do Rosalind an injustice. I 
do not see how you make the term applicable to her; to 


262 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


me she has always appeared very retiring in her manners. 
How is it that she impressed you so differently?” 

“That is just where she has deceived you, my dear 
Hetty. That manner of hers is merely assumed ; in fact, 
everything she does and says is with a view of attracting 
and bringing herself into notice. Believe me, she charms 
like a cat, and unless one has found her out, it would be 
impossible to suspect her of being capable of so much 
artfulness.” 

“It really seems that you have become prejudiced; 
what has she done to have caused it? For my part, I 
have thought her quite a model of propriety, and w^as 
glad that Millie had formed such an attachment for her; 
but if she has proven herself unworthy of our patronage 
it is best that I should know it,” Hetty said, with some 
impatience, and Mrs. Porter understood from her tone 
that she wished her to explain at once upon what author- 
ity she had spoken. 

“No, I’m not in the least prejudiced, but a little inci- 
dent that occurred at Ivy Crown a short time before 
we left there, which your brother Gerald and myself 
chanced to witness, caused me to watch the girl more 
closely, and I find it very amusing to see how adroitly 
she draws both your brother and Edgar Wilkerson on, 
keeping them both in suspense, but at the same time 
making each believe that he is the favored one.” 

“Still you speak in enigmas, Laura; do be more ex- 
plicit,” said Hetty^ irritably. 

“Well, the truth is, Edgar Wilkerson and Rosalind are 
lovers, and while at Ivy Crown they fulfilled their ap- 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


263 


pointments by meeting secretly in those sequestered 
haunts, so well adapted to love-making and sentimental- 
izing. One night when the two had chosen the little 
rose bower at the extreme part of the grounds, your 
brother Gerald and I accidentally chanced upon them, 
and just as accidentally heard what was passing between 
them. It seemed that he was trying to impress upon her 
the impropriety of meeting him clandestinely, for we dis- 
tinctly heard him say that he feared she would be com- 
promised, and she had the boldness to answer that she 
was not afraid of being compromised; then he assured her 
that all things were fair in love and war. Remember 
that we were not eavesdropping, but it so happened that 
my skirt had been caught by a rose bush, and while Ger- 
ald was disengaging it these words fell upon our ears. 
However, they were too intent with their theme to be 
aware of our presence, for he was holding her hand and 
looking as lover-like as Romeo is supposed to have looked 
at Juliet.” 

At this unexpected news Hetty was dumb with aston- 
ishment; from her lofty height she had viewed Rosalind 
with condescending approval, feeling perfectly satisfied 
that she was a suitable companion for Millie, hence she 
was totally unprepared for this revelation and could find 
no words with which to express her consternation. Then, 
too, she regarded Rosalind as a mere child, never dream- 
ing that she had any ideas of clandestine meetings with 
young men, or of anything that savored of intrigue. What 
was she to think upon hearing such a report, coming, too, 
from a woman whose assertion she would never think of 


264 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


doubting, or either censure her with a motive in telling 
such things. 

“I really felt a delicacy in speaking to you about this, 
and had we not been the good friends that we are I 
should not have done so. But under the circumstances I 
felt it my duty to enlighten you, for knowing the girl to 
be capable of such imprudence, I feared for the influence 
she might wield over Millie. However, I trust you will 
not mention what I have told you until the matter further- 
more develops itself. In the meanwhile it will be very 
easy to separate the two girls when we return to Ivy 
Crown, whereas should you undertake to do so now, ex- 
planations would necessarily follow, bringing about an 
unpleasantness to all concerned.” 

“You are quite right, Laura, and I will take your ad- 
vice, tho’ I feel enough put out about the affair to bring 
things to an immediate terminus by having this premature 
adventuress returned at once to the care of the doting old 
aunt, who has not the slightest idea what an ungrateful 
creature she is fostering. But I will desist and for the 
present keep quiet upon the subject, trusting that you will 
assist me in getting together such proof as you may 
regarding her conduct while under my father’s charge. 
With your evidence to this effect, I would feel no hesi- 
tancy in laying the whole matter before either he or Ger- 
ald, neither of whom would have consented to the girl 
making one of our party had they been aware of her im- 
proper conduct, nor would they hesitate a moment to in- 
form Miss Yilinda Morton of the dubious course her grand- 
niece is pursuing.” 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


265 


“As far as your father is concerned, he would not fail 
to discharge his duty, no matter how stern, but as to 
Gerald, did I not just tell you that he was eye witness 
to the scene I just described to you? But, the truth is, 
he, as well as young Wilkerson, is in love with the girl; 
and, the old adage that love is blind, verifies itself in this, 
as well as many other cases.” 

“I must say, you give Gerald credit for a very limited 
amount of common sense, by thinking for a moment that 
he is foolish enough to have fallen in love with such a 
chit of a girl as Rosalind Morton. How could such be 
possible, after having mingled with the most beautiful 
and high-born ladies of all countries? Please tell me 
upon what grounds your suspicions in this case are based,” 
replied Hetty, waxing warm. 

“Why, my dear Hetty, when one has amused one’s 
self for years by making a study of people whom they 
meet daily, there are always little things occurring to 
attract and interest; hence it was an easy matter for 
me to see the change that came over the face of your 
brother, Gerald, when he and I so unexpectedly came 
upon that girl and Edgar Wilkerson in the summer house. 
1 really thought he was going to faint, and he seemed to 
be entirely forgetful of the fact that I was in company 
with him, for I could hardly keep in reach of his arm as 
he hurried me off to the house.” 

“That was because he was so shocked and surprised. 
His sensibilities are very fine, and he was no doubt badly 
hurt to see such imprudence in a girl so young, and, ap- 
parently, so innocent. But you do him a great injustice 


266 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


by supposing him susceptible to such school-girl attrac- 
tions as she possesses. Since the beauty and wit of highly- 
cultured ladies have failed to dazzle him, there is no dan- 
ger of an insignificant child like her turning his head; be- 
sides, he is one of the most critical of connoisseurs.” 

“Possibly I’m mistaken, but I have yet to be convinced 
that I am; however, since you desire it, I will assist you 
in any way that I can out of your dilemma, and should I 
make any new discovery I will let you know at once.” 

“Thank you, Laura, one cannot be too careful in the 
selection of associates for such an affectionate, impulsive 
child as Millie.” 

Hetty’s face wore an anxious look, and it was but too 
evident that Mrs. Porter had planted the seeds of sus- 
picion and distrust in her breast for Rosalind. In the 
meantime while this conversation was going on, Millie, 
Rosalind, Gerald, and Edgar, who had joined the three 
just as they were leaving the hotel, were enjoying a most 
delightful trip around the falls, taking a farewell look of 
beautiful Niagara, but it had so happened that during the 
whole time the little party were aboard of the small 
steamer no opportunity had presented itself for the two 
couples to enjoy a private tete-a-tete, still they had each 
experienced the happiness of being near the object of 
their affection; Rosalind, full of healthful vigor and elas- 
ticity of spirits, was none the less content, little dream- 
ing of the intricate web the pretty widow was weaving 
about her, for as yet no shadow of coming evil had fallen 
athwart her fiower-strewn pathway, no cloud darkened 
the vista of brightness that stretched out before her lofty 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


267 


imagination, and her cup of blissfulness seemed full to 
overflowing. Gerald loved her! What greater boon could 
she ask or expect ? 

It was after one o’clock when they left the boat, and 
as they walked towards the hotel Fred joined them, 
amusing them all greatly by criticising the Englishman. 

‘‘I should never have taken him for a lord, for he is 
more like the kind of fellows who follow the races and 
prizefights and have no other business,” explained the 
boy, thus analyzing the sporting propensities of his new 
acquaintance. 

Had Gerald been in one of his graver moods he would 
doubtless have reproved his brother for his rather crude 
manner of expressing himself, but in his present state of 
content he only smiled at the astuteness the lad had mani- 
fested in reading character. No far-reaching possibilities 
of what the future might bring forth shadowed the bright 
present, and it did not seem possible that behind the 
bright horizon of his hopes there lay darkness and deso- 
lation. While they sat at luncheon, Mrs. Porter, watch- 
ing him from under her long lashes, jealously noted his 
serene countenance, but consoled herself with the thought 
that she had placed Rosalind in the questionable position 
that her words to Henrietta had without a doubt done. 
Hence she determined to feel easy over the matter, and 
succeeded in making herself agreeable to all the gentle- 
men present, as only a beautiful woman can manage to 
do on all occasions. Toward the ladies, too, she was 
more than usually amicable, not failing to take note at 
the same time that Hetty was keenly observant of every 


268 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


word and look exchanged between Rosalind and Gerald. 
And while she watched Hetty, she also observed the two 
in question, realizing more clearly than ever that there 
was something more than ordinary friendship on the part 
of both. True they said but little to each other, and 
nothing that betrayed their affection; but, in this case, 
the poet who says, ‘‘Love’s words are weak, but not 
love’s silences,” the situation is best defined. And Hen- 
rietta, too, could easily detect a gentleness and tender- 
ness of manner in Gerald’s bearing towards Rosalind, the 
existence of which had never before occurred to her. At 
this knowledge the sister was forced to admit that Mrs. 
Porter had judged rightly after all. Having become so 
absorbed in ruminating over this fact, Hetty forgot that 
the Hon. Percy Barton sat beside her, nor was she aware 
that he had addressed several remarks to her without re- 
ceiving an answer, and had become greatly confused at 
this apparent indifference on her part. In fact, all pres- 
ent felt the chilliness of her demeanor, more especially 
Rosalind, with her quick intuition, who had also addressed 
to her some words without receiving any reply. Hence, 
in spite of Mrs. Porter’s gay manner, the luncheon proved 
a most tiresome meal, and all the party experienced a 
great relief when it was over. Later on the same day, Mrs. 
Porter stood at the parlor window watching the return of 
some excursionists, among whom were the Nortons and 
the English party; happening to glance downward, 
her eyes fell upon a crumpled envelope lying upon the 
floor of the veranda, just outside the window and within 
reach of her hand. A portion of the address was visible 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


269 


and she at once recognized Millie’s handwriting. It was 
only the work of a moment to possess herself with the 
letter, the next she had hastily quitted the parlor and 
sought her own room. As she proceeded hither her 
grasp tightened upon the missive, as if she had discov- 
ered that it contained something of great value, and on 
reaching her room she entered and carefully locked the 
door, then proceeded to examine the contents of the little 
epistle. It was addressed to Edgar Wilkerson, in Millie’s 
pretty, girlish chirography, and ran thus: 

“Dearest Edgar — Since no one has the least suspicion 
that we are sweethearts, I think it will be perfectly safe 
for me to meet you in Victoria Park to-night at ten 
o’clock. You know, Edgar, I haven’t had a chance to 
speak with you alone for two days, and that is why I 
write and propose this meeting. Remember that I will 
wait for you in Victoria’s bower, if I get there first, and 
in case that you arrive first on the scene, you can do like- 
wise. Don’t forget, ten o’clock, sharp; and whatever 
you do don’t disappoint your loving little girl, Millie.” 

For some moments after having read the note, Mrs. 
Porter sat in deep thought; then she rose up suddenly 
and went over to where her trunk — a large Saratoga — ■ 
stood open. After searching about for a little while, she 
brought out an exquisite letter-box. Taking from it one 
package after another of letters, notes, and cards of invi- 
tation, she examined each and all until her diligence 
seemed at last rewarded, for she drew a sigh of relief as 
she selected an envelope of a delicate pink color from a 
package and replaced the rest in the beautiful little cas- 


270 


BOSALIND MORTON. 


ket, which bore her monogram wrought in turquois and 
pearl. Then she unfolded and read the missive which 
she had been so intent upon finding. 

‘ ‘Dear Mrs. Porter. ” So it ran, ‘ ‘Aunt Yilinda requests 
that you make one of the party from Ivy Crown who 
have promised to dine with us to-morrow, and I, too, will 
be most happy to welcome you to Morton Place. Yours 
Tery truly, Rosalind Morton.” 

The above was dated June 20th, and Mrs. Porter re- 
membered that it had rained all the day mentioned, hence 
none of the party had gone over to dine with Miss Yilinda 
Morton. 

Again and again did the widow read the delicately 
tinted note, studying every graceful curve and finish of 
the beautifully formed letter, and when she had finished 
this task seated herself at a small table, containing 
pen, ink, and paper, and commenced reproducing Millie’s 
letter in Rosalind’s handwriting. So intent she became 
in her anxiety to perfect her work that it is doubtful if 
any remorse of conscience entered her heart; if so, she 
turned a deaf ear to the still, small voice, and justified 
herself by thinking that it was her right — either by fair 
or foul means — to remove every obstacle that stood be- 
tween herself and Gerald Underwood. She had always 
had a talent for imitating handwriting, but previous to 
this had never made use of it in this way; however, quot- 
ing Edgar Wilkerson’s version of the matter, she mentally 
emphasized, “All things are fair in love and war.” But 
in this instance it was not love, but war, that prompted 
her to act. 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


271 


“And now, Rosalind Morton,” she continued, “beauty, 
saint, divinity, and everything else the adoring Gerald 
has seen fit to deem you, between we two it is war to the 
knife.” 

This was her mental conclusion upon folding the letter 
and inclosing it in an envelope. It had taken some 
time for the willful woman to complete her task in a sat- 
isfactory manner, and it was not without experiencing 
many doubts and misgivings before she fairly realized 
that the words Millie had penned, which she had trans- 
ferred to another sheet of note paper, were a perfect fac- 
simile of Rosalind’s chirography. Then, to make the 
fraud complete, the billetdoux was addressed to Edgar 
Wilkerson and crumpled in the same manner as the orig- 
inal one. 

Without contemplating for a moment upon what she 
had done, she hastened to Hetty’s room to give the letter 
into her hands and inform her where she had picked it up; 
the result of which did not fall short of the woman’s ex- 
pectations, as for once in her life Henrietta Underwood 
so far forgot her dignity as to give way entirely to her 
anger. 

“It is positively the most shameful affair I have ever 
been connected with, and I feel shocked and humiliated 
beyond measure that I have allowed myself and party to 
be thus imposed upon by a perfect nobody, who tries to 
impress people with her goodness and innocence. I must 
admit, Laura, that you were not far wrong in believing 
that Gerald, too, had become infatuated with the girl, hav- 
ing myself noted his marked attentions and manifestations 


272 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


of interest towards her while at luncheon to-daj,*’ said 
Hetty, warmly, little dreaming that it was not Rosalind, 
but the woman who stood before her, whose honor she 
supposed unquestionable, that was deceiving her, and had 
that day, for the sake of carrying out her own selfish 
purposes, committed a criminal act, not alone in forging 
Rosalind’s name, but in heaping calumny upon the head 
of the innocent, high-souled girl. What greater crime 
than this could ever be perpetrated? And yet not a day 
passes but that some pure-minded, innocent woman is sac- 
rificed in the same manner. Hence, while Hetty lamented 
over the misfortune of having allowed this intimacy to 
spring up between Millie and the young adventuress, as 
she now termed Rosalind, the true offender expressed 
much sympathetic interest in the matter. 

If Henrietta had experienced the least doubt in regard 
to the story Mrs. Porter had told her, the note that she 
still held in her hand was sufficient proof of the truthful- 
ness of her assertions. But viewing the woman from the 
high standard she was wont to regard those of her own 
class, it was not possible that any doubts should have con- 
fronted her. 

After all, how little do people really know of each 
other? Tho’ they be associated for weeks, months, and 
even years, they have not the power of penetrating the 
intricate workings of the human heart. It is true that 
Mrs. Porter had never been guilty of such an act before, 
but then it was not because of any fixed principles of 
honor, but simply that she had never been tempted. She 
had always been vain and willful, and had never submit- 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


273 


ted to having her wishes thwarted; therefore, when she 
realized that nothing but Kosalind Morton stood in the 
way, as she supposed, of reigniting the old flame within 
the breast of Gerald, she determined to remove this ob- 
stacle at all hazards. 

“What right had this girl, the daughter of an impov- 
erished minister, to come between herself and the man 
who had formerly adored her?” she asked herself time 
and again, upon seeing that the shattered hopes of his 
youth had been gathered together and piece by piece 
builded into a temple of sublime workmanship, and the 
image enshrined upon that sacred altar was that of Kosa- 
lind Morton. 

Not precisely in these words and sentiments did the 
widow sum up the situation, but the idea she still retained 
of Gerald’s romantic, dreamy nature led her to suppose 
that it was the purity and innocence of Kosalind, rather 
than her beauty, that attracted him to her. Such were 
her cogitations at that moment. 

“I will not wait longer, but as soon as Gerald comes 
in this evening I will show him this and try to convince 
him of the very unworthiness of the damsel, whom it 
seems has taken such a hold upon his imagination, ” con- 
cluded Hetty in reply to Mrs. Porter’s look of inquiry. 

“Would it not appear a little better to return the letter 
to Edgar Wilkerson, who is no doubt searching for it at 
this very time?” asked the widow in a depreciatory tone. 

“Under any other circumstances it certainly would be 
our duty to return it to its owner, but under the existing 
ones I see no reason why it should be returned; besides, 
18 


274 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


it is the only proof we have in our possession with which 
to convince Gerald of the girl’s disgraceful conduct,” re- 
plied Hetty, readily. 

Mrs. Porter felt greatly relieved to hear Hetty express 
herself in that way, having not been fully satisfied be- 
fore that her ruse would work successfully, but it 
seemed that even fate itself had played into her hands, 
and the only thing that remained to be done was to see 
Millie and whisper a little warning in her ear; then her 
safety would indeed be assured. But notwithstanding 
everything the woman had done on that day to cast doubts 
and suspicions upon the character of Kosalind, she did not 
forget the fashionable conventionalism that ruled her life, 
for to dress for dinner was an item of far greater value 
in her eyes than the reputation of all the fair Kosalinds 
in the world. So as quickly as she could get away from 
Henrietta, she hastened to her own room and placed her- 
self in the hands of her very efficient maid. Her toilette 
upon that evening was more than ever exquisite, and two 
hours later, when she descended the steps, she appeared 
decidedly charming. Her dress was composed of some 
dead black material of the softest texture, and of the most 
tasteful make and perfect fit, comprising the art of model- 
ing after a beautiful form; a network of cobweb lace re- 
lieved the neck and shoulders from bareness, and at the 
same time disclosed their plumpness and marble-like white- 
ness. The elbow sleeves, too, were made with a view of ex- 
posing the exquisite molding of her arms and pretty white 
hands to the very best advantage. She wore no jewelry, 
except the elegant diamond which had sealed the en- 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


275 


gagement between herself and Senator Porter, and the 
plain gold band that told she had been a wife. No other 
ornament adorned the handsome woman but a bunch of 
pure white roses which nestled amid the cascades of lace 
upon her voluptuous bosom, yet nothing could have ap- 
peared more complete. Altogether, Mrs. Porter was a 
woman who never failed to excite admiration wherever 
she went, and beside her more mature charms, those of 
younger girls were wont to pale into insignificance. Of this 
the widow was perfectly aware, and until she met Kosa- 
lind she had never experienced a fear of rivalry from this 
source. But then she was not so sure of herself, for the 
ethereal beauty which so much bespoke virginal purity, 
and lent such a charm to this girl, was most attractive to 
every one, and had excited envy and deep-rooted jealousy 
within the breast of the woman until it had actually 
grown into intense hatred. 

Upon the evening in question, just as she reached the 
foot of the stairs, the gentle frou-frou of trailing skirts 
fell upon her ear, and looking back she encountered 
Kosalind. She, too, had dressed for dinner, and the 
pretty costume, composed of white chiffon over lemon 
colored silk, was charmingly becoming to her fair com- 
plexion and slight but symmetrical form. A bunch of dark 
blue velvety pansies were fastened in the bodice of her 
dress, which vied in color with her eyes. Never had the 
fair girl appeared more enchantingly lovely. 

In return to Rosalind’s pleasant greeting, Mrs. Porter 
bowed coldly, and in a restrained voice asked: 

“Can you tell me where I would be most apt to find 
Millie?” 


276 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“I left her in our room a few minutes ago; she will be 
down directly, I am sure.” 

Rosalind had hardly ceased speaking before Millie and 
Nettie were heard chattering at the head of the steps, 
then the two came bounding down. 

‘‘Oh, there you are, Rosa — my pretty Rosa, as Polly 
says,” — cried the merry girl as soon as she caught sight of 
Rosalind. ‘ ‘Shall we go to Victoria Park now, dear, or 
wait a while?” she added, not yet having seen Mrs. Por- 
tor. Then observing her, she continued, “And you here 
also, and looking as magnificent as ever? I wish you 
would impart to me the secret of always contriving to 
look beautiful.” 

But before Mrs. Porter could reply to this Rosalind 
said, “We will not go into the park just now, Millie, 
Mrs. Porter wishes to see you; Nettie and 1 will wait 
in the parlor.” 

As soon as the two girls had passed out of hearing the 
pretty widow turned to Millie and said, “Thank you, 
Miss Midget, for your nice compliment, and let me return 
it by assuring you that you need no secret of art to im- 
prove your beauty, nature having done everything neces- 
sary in that line; but I must say I think you very much 
inclined to flattery.” 

“I am sorry to know you have such a poor opinion of 
me as to think that when I say nice things about you 
I mean to flatter you; indeed I do not, but mean every 
word I say, and I really fear Mrs. Norton’s chances for 
mashing this evening are pretty slim; just to think, Fred 
says that dude of an English lord is stuck on her,” laughed 
Millie, provokingly. 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


277 


“Well, if that is who you are comparing me with, I will 
take back everything I have said about you being a flat- 
terer, and call it downright slander,” retorted Mrs. 
Porter, assuming an injured tone. 

“1 beg a thousand pardons, and promise not to be so 
rude again; but Rosalind said you wished to see me.” 

“Yes, but in the first place I will grant you your thou- 
sand pardons, trusting to your kindness in future of not 
classing me with your ignorant neighbor, not even jok- 
ingly, for I cannot endure the sight of her. And now 
come with me to the back parlor, as I have something to 
say to you, and as that something is for your ears alone, 
it is not altogether safe to say it here.” 

Millie felt no little curiosity concerning what it was 
Mrs. Porter had to communicate that called for so much 
secrecy, and as she followed her to the place designated, 
many conjectures presented themselves to her. However, 
she was soon to realize that none of her surmises were 
correct, and her pretty eyes opened wider than ever with 
surprise and curiosity when Mrs. Porter begun the con- 
versation by saying: 

“Don’t go in the park to-night to meet Edgar; there 
is danger of you being seen by some one, who might 
possibly repeat the circumstance until it would reach the 
ears of your father.” 

Millie did not reply to this, but stood regarding the 
woman with speechless wonder; and Mrs. Porter, in her 
soft, cooing tones, continued: 

“You need not alarm yourself because I am aware of 
the little love affair between you and Edgar; the truth is, 


278 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


I have known it all the time — that is to say, since I came 
to Ivy Crown — and you need not think for a moment that 
I would ever betray you, for if I did not want to shield 
you I would never have given you this warning. Believe 
me, I have your interest and welfare at heart.” 

“Thank you; but tell me how did you learn of our ar- 
rangement for this evening.” 

“Oh, a little bird brings me the news, especially when 
any such things as lovers’ meetings are going on,” Mrs. 
Porter replied, smiling down into the childish face, which 
then wore such an anxious, troubled look. Then, in a 
more serious tone, she resumed: 

“Laying aside all jokes, Millie, I found your note, 
which Edgar no doubt dropped soon after i*eceiving it, 
and seeing it was addressed to Edgar Wilkerson, in your 
handwriting, I took the liberty of reading it, fairly trem- 
bling at the thought of what would have been the result 
had it been Hetty who found it instead of myself. It was 
lying open on the veranda; just think of it.” 

Still Millie seemed at a loss for words, remaining silent. 

“I hope you will be guided by an older, if not a wiser, 
head, and not venture in Victoria Bower to-night, but 
send a message or a letter by some trusty person explain- 
ing why you- could not come. By doing this at the very 
time you appointed, there will be no trouble in finding 
Edgar, for he will most assuredly be there, and whatever 
you do, avoid any talk with him to-night, for your father 
watches you very closely when you are in his company, 
hence you cannot be too particular. Promise me, Millie, 
that you will do as I have advised this evening.” 


MRS. PORTER’S RUSE. 


279 


‘‘Why, certainly, Mrs. Porter, I will promise you that 
I will not go, and thank you, too, for your kind advice. 
It was very silly in me to write and tell him to meet me, 
and if I had given the matter a second thought I would 
not have written. But where is the note, I will tear it 
up at once?” Millie ended, by asking, at the same time 
holding out her hand for it. 

“I have saved you the trouble,” replied Mrs. Porter, 
pointing to fragments of paper that lay at their feet. 
“You see,” she went on, “that I brought it here to read 
for fear of intrusion.” And, to convince Millie more 
thoroughly, she knelt down on the carpet and picked up 
some of the pieces and handed Millie. 

“Here is all that remains of it,” she said, smiling. 

“Thank you again, Mrs. Porter; I do not doubt but 
what you have done your duty towards me, and I am 
quite satisfied that no one will ever take the trouble to 
read those bits of paper; so you can leave them where 
they are,” Millie said, brushing them from Mrs. Porter’s 
hand to the floor. Then the girl, feeling that she had 
judged Mrs. Porter wrongfully, held up her pretty lips 
to be kissed by this “modern Circe,” and said: 

“And now, good-bye until dinner; I must find Bosa- 
lind.” 

Mrs. Porter watched the pretty, lithe figure out of the 
room, and then a self-satisfied smile parted her lips. 
Well she knew why Millie was so anxious to find Rosa- 
lind, and she no longer entertained a doubt regarding the 
success of her ruse. 


CHAPTER XYIL 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 

M/HEH Millie found Rosalind she was standing by one 
of the parlor windows taking a last lingering look 
at Niagara and its beautiful surroundings. The day was 
dying, and all the beauty of the view was enhanced by 
the radiant glow of a golden sunset, which fell upon the 
masses of green foliage, lovely flowers and sparkling 
fountains of Victoria Park, while beyond this it rested 
like a halo of glory, in all the gorgeous colors of the rain- 
now, upon the crowning wonder and beauty of the whole — 
Niagara. 

Nothing in art or nature had ever so impressed Rosa- 
lind as this grand piece of nature’s handiwork, and while 
she looked upon its magniflcence and listened to its deep, 
penetrating and all-absorbing voice, she felt confldent 
that earth held nothing that would ever appear half so 
beautiful to her sight, nor would any music ever fall upon 
her ear with such rhythmical melody as she had heard in 
the rushing waters of the cataract. What sweet memo- 
ries, too, were associated with the place! and her heart 
leaped with joy as she recalled to mind that Gerald had 
almost confessed his love for her while amongst its hal- 
lowed haunts, yea, fully confessed it, in every lover-like 
way imaginable, and she no longer doubted its existence; 
hence, in the sweet halcyon days that were to come, 
when their lives would be interwoven in the bonds of 

280 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


231 


mutual sympathy and affection, she would look back with 
the most tender recollections to her first visit to Niagara. 

From the happy reverie into which she had fallen, 
Millie’s voice aroused her. “What are you dreaming 
about now?” she asked, coming close up beside her; “I 
really believe you would stand and gaze and gaze on the 
scene from this window forever, but as I am ready to go 
in the park you will have to tear yourself away, for the 
present at least, and since we are going away to-morrow, 
there is no telling when you will feast your eyes on those 
grand beauties again; ‘it may be for years and it may be 
forever,'” Millie ended by singing out. 

“I am ready,” Rosalind replied, turning from the win- 
dow with a little smothered sigh. 

“But where is Nettie? she was at the piano when I 
came to the window,” she added, seeing that no one was 
in the room except herself and Millie. 

“Oh, she has gone off with Nellie; Edwin and Henry 
are going to take them for a walk, and I am truly glad of 
it, as 1 w^anted you all to myself for a while.” 

A few minutes later the two girls were wandering 
among the sublime beauties of Victoria Park, and Millie 
broke the silence by saying, “Do you know, Rosa, I 
wrote Edgar to meet me in the bower to night at ten 
o’clock, and something has occurred since to make some 
of our party suspicious, therefore I am afraid to venture 
out, so 1 thought I would ask you, dear, to be the bearer 
of a message to him for me; will you do this for me, 
Rosa?” 

“What, at such a late hour?” asked Rosalind, sur- 


282 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


prisedly. “Why can you not speak to him at dinner, 
Millie, and inform him of the fact that you can’t keep the 
engagement?” 

“That’ just where the trouble lies, for he and Fred and 
Gerald have all gone out, and won’t get back until after 
we have dined; besides this, papa is watching me closely, 
and I am afraid to* speak to Edgar, so you see I am in a 
dilemma, and as usual have no one but you to help me 
out.” 

It was hard to deny Millie this, or anything else, for in 
the childish eyes there was irresistible pleading; but Kosa- 
lind felt conscientiously that she was doing Millie a 
wrong by continuing to humor her whims, and herself 
also, for had she not almost lost favor with Gerald by 
before complying with just such a request from Millie? 
What if he should again see her in company with Edgar 
Wilkerson? And it would look even worse at this place, 
at such a late hour, too, when the chilly atmosphere 
prevented ladies from going out after night. But she 
remembered that she had given Millie her promise that 
she would serve her in any way possible, little thinking 
what unreasonable requests the thoughtless girl would 
make of her. 

“I feel it my duty, Millie, to beg of you to adopt some 
other mode than this of keeping up a secret correspond- 
ence with Edgar; would it not be better to tell your 
father everything than to practice deception upon him? 
Tell him, Millie, and trust to his generosity. Recollect, 
my dear friend, that no one loves you as well as he or 
would do more for your happiness; therefore I feel that I 


GOOD BYE TO NIAGARA. 


283 


am acting a dishonorable part by aiding you in such rash- 
ness.” 

“You do not care for me any longer, or you would not 
talk to me in this way, which is the same thing as refus- 
ing to do what I have asked you. As to telling papa, I 
might as well go and throw myself from Niagara, for he 
would never own me as his child again; you don’t know 
him like 1 do, or you would not advise anything of the 
kind; but if you are disposed to look on the matter in 
such a gloomy light you need not trouble yourself further 
on my account.” 

As Millie continued to speak, tears choked her utter- 
ance, and great shining drops followed each other swiftly 
down her cheeks. It was the second time Kosalind had 
seen her weep since the camp-meeting, and felt very sorry 
to think that she had been the cause of her grief; further- 
more, she saw plainly that such an argument as she had 
advanced was more than useless. 

“It is painful to me, Millie, to understand that you 
have taken such a wrong view of what I have said to you. 
Indeed, you greatly mistake me by thinking for a moment 
that I do not care for you; it is because I care so much 
that prompted me to speak to you as I did; but dry your 
tears and cheer up, I will do what you ask me even if I 
suffer for it.” 

“Oh, thank you, Kosa, and please forgive me for my 
unkind words to you; I was so dreadfully disappointed 
and put out that I hardly knew what I said,” exclaimed 
Millie, showering kisses and caresses on her companion 
and smiling sweetly upon her through a mist of tears. 


284 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Two hours later the party entered the diningroom 
en suite, and at their approach every eye was turned 
towards them, while whispered exclamations of admira- 
tion were exchanged between family groups, and glances 
expressive of the same from those having no one near 
with whom they were familiar enough to pass an opinion. 

It was no wonder that every one was attracted, for those 
comprising Judge Underwood’s party were decidedly the 
handsomest and most tastefully attired guests at the Clif- 
ton House. Upon that evening in particular their pre- 
eminence had asserted itself. Rosalind especially was 
generally admired; the perfect yet unstudied grace of 
manner that characterized her every movement had the 
effect of charming every one. Gerald observed this with 
great satisfaction, also how little she was aware of her ex- 
treme loveliness. 

After dinner was over they were met in the parlor by 
Mr. and Mrs. Norton, and could not do otherwise than 
speak to them. However, the ladies were not bored by 
their uncongenial acquaintance, as they had anticipated, 
for Mrs. Norton was far too intent on having the atten- 
tions of the English lord undivided to give those beautiful 
young women a chance of capturing him; therefore the 
moment he entered the parlor and sought her side she ex- 
pressed a wish to promenade on the veranda. At this 
Norton looked black, but made no remonstrance. 

Later on that evening the Underwood party chanced to 
be the sole occupants of one of the pretty parlors, Gerald 
and the two cadets having returned in time to join the 
others in the diningroom had accompanied them hither, 
and all were apparently in the best of spirits. 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


285 


“Give us a song, Gerry,” cried Millie, as she observed 
her brother seat himself upon the music stool and run his 
fingers idly over the keys. 

“Yes, give us a song, Gerald; it has been a long time 
since I have heard you sing,” said the Judge, rising from 
his easy chair and going over to the piano. 

“I think it a useless undertaking to try to get Gerald 
to sing for you, for, as father says, he has not been heard 
to sing for years, at least, by any of us,” said Hetty. 

“Well, that’s no sign that he can’t sing any more, for 
I have heard him sing when you were all asleep, and one 
of his songs is a daisy, I can tell you. Sing that one I 
heard you singing about ‘sweetheart,’ Gerry,” said’Fred, 
enthusiastically. And, to the surprise of every one pres- 
ent, Gerald responded by singing the first love song ever 
written by Eugene Field, entitled, “Be My Sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart, be my sweetheart 
When birds are on the wing, 

When bee and bud and babbling flood 
Bespeak the birth of spring. 

Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart, 

And wear the posy ring. 

“Sweetheart, be my sweetheart 
When falls the bounteous year, 

When fruit and wine of tree and vine 
Give us their harvest cheer. 

Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart, 

For winter it draweth near. 

“Sweetheart, be my sweetheart, 

When the year is white and old — 

When the fire of youth is spent forsooth ! 

And the hand of age is cold. 

Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart, 

Till the year of our love be told.” 


286 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


And while Gerald sang that tender little love ballad — 
playing a soft accompaniment — every one in the room 
ceased their idle chat to listen; and not only they, but 
strangers in the adjoining parlor and elsewhere, thronged 
about the doorway to hear the song and get a glimpse of 
the owner of the full, rich baritone. Rosalind, too, list- 
ened entranced, for in those thrilling, pleading, passion- 
ate tones of entreaty, she realized that Gerald was singing 
to her, and though the others might listen, she alone 
should understand the depths and pathos he had thrown 
into every stanza. 

Ah! would she ever forget that last happy evening at 
Niagara, and the song Gerald sung to her? And while 
she sat there silently contemplating upon this, Hetty and 
Mrs. Porter were exchanging knowing glances, for, in a 
vague, undefined manner, they, too, understood of whom 
Gerald was thinking while singing that song. Then 
Hetty looked at her watch, and found that it was twenty 
minutes past nine. What she had to do must be done 
quickly. Kellie, Kettie, Henry, Edwin, and Fred, all 
stood around the piano praising Gerald’s vocal powers 
and insisting upon him giving them another song. 

“If I could sing as well as you I wouldn’t be so spar- 
ing with my voice; and just to think, this is the first song 
you have given us,” said Henry, in a tone of rebuke. 

“You will have to excuse Gerald for this evening, as I 
wish to speak to him,” interrupted Hetty, approaching 
the group. 

“Certainly, Miss Henrietta,” and Henry Courts moved 
away from the piano. 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


287 


Upon hearing his sister’s voice beside him, Gerald 
arose and, offering her his arm, walked with her to the 
rear part of the room; then, placing her upon a divan, he 
seated himself beside her and asked: 

“How can I serve you?” 

“Oh, it is not a matter of any great importance; I only 
wanted to know what time we will leave here to-morrow? ” 

“About ten o’clock, I think; I suppose you have fully 
determined upon going, have you?” he asked, smiling. 

“Yes, indeed! and I have had cause sufficient to se- 
riously regret having come at all,” she returned, with a 
decided emphasis lingering upon each syllable. 

“What!” exclaimed Gerald, surprisedly; “regret com- 
ing, and for what possible reason, pray?” 

The days spent at Niagara had been to him as sweet as 
elysian dreams, hence he had not entertained a single 
thought that these days had not been enjoyed by all. 

“Yes, it is true,” said Hetty, in reply to Gerald’s 
astonished inquiry, “quite true,” she repeated, “that I 
regret coming here very much, or, at least, that I had 
not left some of the party behind.” 

“Gerry, do come over and help us persuade Miss 
Kosalind to sing,” called Edwin from the other side of 
the room. 

“I fear my intercession will be of little use since you 
have failed, Edwin; however, we would all very much 
enjoy a song,” replied Gerald, rising and bowing in his 
usual high-bred manner. 

Meanwhile, all the young men had gathered around 
Rosalind asking for a song, but she continued firm in her 
refusal. 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Please excuse me this evening — I can not; it is im- 
possible,” was all she said in response to their solicita- 
tions. She did not plead a headache, as most girls do at 
such a time, for she was not ill, and her love of truth did 
not admit of bringing forward a falsehood by way of ex- 
cuse. But after listening to Gerald’s singing, with all 
the tender pathos and lingering sweetness of his tones 
still echoing in her ears, and falling upon her senses with 
such soothing effect, she felt that it would be perfect sac- 
rilege to thus expel such cherished notes from her charmed 
memory; truly, it was impossible for her to sing. 

During this interlude Hetty had found new fuel to add 
to the flames which had been all day kindling towards 
Rosalind, for while observing the attention the girl was 
then receiving, she felt that this was the most suitable 
time and place to unfold to Gerald the knowledge she 
had that day received of her, and show him the note she 
still retained in her possession. 

“Truly, a very queen Guinevere,” was her indignant 
exclamation, when Gerald again turned his attention to 
her. 

“I haven’t the least idea of whom you are speaking, 
Henrietta; in fact, it appears that you have been dealing 
in riddles ever since our conversation began, and now 
will you be so kind as to unravel some of them, as I am 
too dull this evening to attempt it? ” 

“Who else could so well deserve the term as she?” 
Hetty replied, nodding in the direction of Rosalind. 

“Least of all womankind would I think the term ap- 
plicable to her,” said Gerald, with much warmth. 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


289 


^‘1 am sorry to disturb the serenity of your bright 
illusions and arouse you to a sense of your folly, but it 
seems that matters have reached such a crisis that 1 am 
compelled to speak, as further delay may prove disas- 
trous; you need not look so surprised at my words; re- 
serve your astonishment for what I have yet to tell you; 
it is of Rosalind Morton that I wished to speak.” 

Upon hearing this Gerald made an impatient gesture, 
and said: 

“Spare me, Henrietta, you should know me well enough 
to understand my dislike of anything that savors of gos- 
sip.” 

“But you must hear me; what I am going to tell you 
is not for the sake of gossiping, but it is necessary that 
you and father both should hear of Miss Morton’s impru- 
dent conduct while making one of our party, and she in 
daily intercourse with Millie, too; so if you doubt my word 
in the least, read this note and be convinced, as I was.” 

There was an unusual flush of excitement on Hetty’s 
cheek and the tone of her voice bespoke the same as she 
handed him the little crumpled note addressed to Edgar 
Wilkerson in Rosalind’s handwriting. 

As Gerald read the address a shudder passed over him 
and his face became colorless, but Henrietta was watch- 
ing him with a smile, which spoke more of contempt than 
amusement, and with a great effort he controlled his 
shocked emotions sufficiently to say: 

“This letter is addressed to Edgar Wilkerson, and 
neither you nor I have any right to read it, Henrietta; 
how came it in your possession?” 


19 


290 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Chance alone has placed it in my way, and since it 
has served to open my eyes to the fact of the indiscretions 
of this girl, it is fortunate that I came across it. At any 
rate, I took the liberty of reading it.” 

“I am ashamed to think you would have done such 
a thing; instead you should have returned it to the legiti- 
mate owner.” 

Gerald’s voice sounded harsh to Henrietta; she did not 
conceive of the cruel disappointment which was rankling 
at his heart and oppressing his breath; profound emotions 
and grand passions were unknown to her, and she felt that 
it was herself instead of Kosalind upon whom her brother 
was sitting in judgment. 'But she was not to be thwarted 
in her intentions. 

“You refuse to read the note, but you cannot prevent 
me from expressing my opinion upon the subject, which 
is this: when a girl so far forgets the respect that is due 
those who have been kind and patronizing towards her as 
to write notes to a young man, asking him to meet her in 
a place almost unfrequented after dark, and at the late 
hour of ten o’clock, she should no longer be tolerated by 
those who have taken an interest in her; and tho’ you 
have censured me for reading her note, I do not think I 
have taken any undue liberty, especially under the exist- 
ing circumstances. I did not know, when 1 gave Millie 
permission to invite her to make one of our party, that 
she was one of those romantic, mysterious young ladies 
who rather preferred meeting a gentleman at ten o’clock 
at night in Victoria bower than in one of the pleasant par- 
lors of the Clifton House, and I feel confident that such a 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


291 


person is not nor has ever been a suitable companion for 
Millie; hence I have made up my mind that her acquaint- 
ance with Rosalind Morton must end; and that is one rea- 
son why we should not remain here longer, and the chief 
one why our tour will not be extended to other points; and 
I trust that you will remember, too, that after our return 
this girl will no longer be received as a guest at Ivy 
Crown.” 

Gerald heard his sister through, without any other be- 
trayal of emotion than that of his increasing pallor, but 
tho’ his outer calmness had remained unbroken, her words 
had smote upon his heart like the thrust of a dagger, and 
as he realized the immeasurable chasm that now geparated 
him from the woman he had come to worship, he felt that 
he could not endure his agonized feelings another mo- 
ment without betraying them to Hetty. 

“It is not my affair, and you may be sure I will not in- 
termeddle; and now, if you will excuse me, I will go out 
for a smoke,” he managed to say, as he left her and 
walked mechanically out of the room. 

Hetty did not attempt to detain him longer, but her 
eyes followed him curiously as she pondered his seem- 
ingly indifferent reply. 

“He does not appear to be the least exercised, and 
after all Mrs. Porter’s conjectures and my foolish fears, 
it may have been only imagination, but no doubt he is on 
the same terms of intimacy with her as Edgar Wilkerson;” 
such was her mental conclusion as he disappeared 
through the doorway. 

How different would she have thought had she seen 


292 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


him a few moments later, for no sooner was he alone 
than his face became apparently drawn and haggard, and 
a look of complete hopelessness settled upon it, pitiful to 
see. Once in the outer world with the radiant beauty of 
the night hovering over him, and the deliciously cool 
breeze blowing upon him, Gerald tried to think and reason 
with himself in that critical, logical way, that had charac- 
terized his thoughts and actions previous to meeting Rosa- 
lind. But alas! it was impossible, for his powerful will 
and practical judgment seemed to have both deserted 
him. He felt as though his very brain was on fire. What 
was he to do, and how was he to bring himself to the 
realism that Rosalind — whom he had believed as pure as 
the snow — had deceived him, and to all appearances was 
as false as she was fair. ‘^Why was it,” he asked him- 
self repeatedly, “that just at the time when he had rid 
himself of all doubts and fears concerning she and Edgar 
Wilkerson, this new contingency should arise? Was it 
only for the purpose of overthrowing all his hopes and 
baffling all his joyful expectations that fate had thrown 
her in his way and caused his heart to go out to her in all 
the beauty and grandeur of a noble love ? And, after all, 
was it possible that Hetty’s suggestions, regarding her as 
being another Queen Guinevere, were correct? and did he 
(Gerald) only hold the place in Rosalind’s heart that 
Lancelot had shared with the other lovers of King 
Arthur’s fickle queen ? ” 

Thus it was that all these queries rose up, phantom- 
like, to confront him as he wearily paced up and down an 
unfrequented portion of the veranda which lay in shadow. 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


293 


And as they crowded in rapid succession upon his mental 
vision, he became more and more bewildered each mo- 
ment. Scarcely twenty minutes had elapsed since he left 
the piano, yet it seemed to him that years had passed 
slowly by since he had heard Hetty’s voice denouncing 
Rosalind. Suddenly he stopped; then, with an involun- 
tary movement, he passed down the steps of the veranda, 
and turned in the direction of Victoria Park, while, as 
one under the influence of a sinister dream, he wandered 
on, conscious only of his powerlessness to awaken from 
it. There was no one visible about the flower-laden 
grounds, and all was quiet save the stupendous roar of 
the falls and the fluttering wings of two or three birds, 
which, startled by the sound of footsteps, flew low rest- 
lessly, as if the breaking of their repose had rendered 
them uncertain where to find safety in another resting- 
place. For a little while after Gerald entered, he wan- 
dered aimlessly about, then, with a vague expectation, 
scarcely definable, he sat down on a rustic seat near the 
entrance, where, having a distinct view of his surround- 
ings, he was completely -concealed from observation by 
the heavy-foliaged plants about him. To a man like 
Gerald, possessing all the finer intricacies of emotion, 
which are the attributes of highly -cultured and refined 
temperaments, the idea of having come there for the pur- 
pose of spying upon the actions of Rosalind was loath- 
some to him; but, in his present state of mind, he was 
only dimly conscious of the dishonor attached to such a 
proceeding; for, as Ouida says, “confidence, like a swal- 
low coming over the seas in the storm and sunshine of 


294 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


spring weather, will only nest where it is sure of a safe 
shelter,” hence the higher and better emotions of the 
human heart want to be sure that they are being safely 
anchored after having once been storm-tossed. 

And so it was with Gerald. His former experience had 
taught him how little of faithfulness belonged to women; 
and now he felt that, in spite of the worshipful love he 
had bestowed upon Rosalind, if it be true that she was 
deceiving him, should the knowledge of it prove his death 
warrant, it were far better that he should know it. And 
while he pondered all these unhappy truths that had been 
forced upon him, a yet deeper stillness had stolen over 
the flowers, vines, and evergreens of the lovely place; all 
nature had apparently sunk into sweet repose, when sud- 
denly a step sounded on the walk. The next moment a 
man entered the park and passed up the avenue of dark 
green, which led to Victoria bower, and, while he saun- 
tered leisurely along, a song burst from his lips. It was 
the voice of Edgar Wilkerson, and he seemed wooing the 
loved one — whoever she might be — with his soft, flowing 
tones, while he sang — 

“Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls. 

Come hither, the dancers are done, 

In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, 

Queen lily and rose in one; 

Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls. 

To the flowers, and be their sun.” 

And while these beautiful lines of Lord Tennyson rose 
and fell in rhythmical measure upon the flower-scented 
air, Gerald’s heart stood still. The thought that he, too, 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


295 


had associated Rosalind with the poet’s beautiful “Maud,” 
thrust itself upon him in the most cruel and mocking 
fashion, and caused him to realize more clearly than ever 
that the great passion of his life had gone like all other 
great passions — receiving no return. While he sat there 
in this half-dazed state, trying to recall the many such 
affaires d’ amour that had come under his observation, an- 
other step sounded upon the walk which led into the 
park, and a woman’s form appeared within range of his 
vision. A dark ulster was thrown over her, concealing 
from view the evening attire, which she presumably wore, 
and as she moved swiftly along, Gerald could not have 
been sure it was Rosalind had not a sudden glare from 
an electric light flashed full upon her face, disclosing to 
him its every lovely feature, and now he needed no further 
evidence in the matter, for truly, “what the eyes see, 
the heart believeth.” Then it was that the face of the 
man, sitting there so statue-like, underwent a still greater 
change. In that moment it seemed to turn to stone; all 
the life died out of it, and it grew still and rigid as death. 
It was no trouble to go out of the park unobserved, hence 
with little consciousness of what he was doing, Gerald 
passed out of the palm-sheltered nook and made his way 
towards the hotel, feeling that within the last half hour 
he had grown old, and that all his heart’s blood, drop by 
drop, had frozen within his bosom. 

Behind a half closed blind of her chamber window, 
Mrs. Porter was watching for Gerald’s return, having not 
failed to see him leave the parlor, and knowing intuitively 
where he had gone; therefore, she was the first, and per- 


296 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


haps the only one, who saw him coming from the park at 
that time, and a cry of supreme joy was upon her lips 
when she realized that her every wish had been fulfilled, 
having already ascertained from Millie that Kosalind had 
gone to deliver her message to Edgar. But as he drew 
nearer, and the wily woman had a better view of his face, 
she felt terrified by its exceeding pallor. Indeed, she 
could have scarcely recognized in the white, haggard 
features and uncertain gait, the handsome, self-poised 
man of an hour ago. True, the night was chilly — as all 
nights are at Niagara — but surely that was not the cause 
of the agitation that was shaking his form. 

“Gracious heavens! how haggard he looks,” was her 
mental cogitation as he walked up the steps of the 
veranda; “I wonder if his disillusion has so seriously 
affected him, or am I giving away to my imagination? 
However it may be, he belonged to me first, and it was 
my right to disenchant him with the fair Eosalind, 
‘queen of roses,’ ha, ha! But I trust this is the coup 
de grace to her short-lived queenship. As to Gerald, he 
will soon get over this, as he did an earlier love affair 
which I happen to know something about.” 

Then humming an air from the latest French opera, 
Mrs. Porter left the window, feeling highly pleased over 
the wonderful success of her undertaking. Had she 
waited five minutes later she would have seen Kosalind 
also returning from Victoria Park, with white cheeks and 
sorrowful mien. She, too, was trembling, for into her 
heart there had stolen a vague tho’ undefined fear of 
coming evil that weighed heavy upon her. Millie was in 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


297 


their room anxiously awaiting her return, and as soon as 
she caught a glimpse of Rosalind’s white face, exclaimed, 
in a horrified tone: 

‘‘Why, Rosa, what in the world is the matter? you are 
as white as a ghost.” 

“Nothing is the matter, Millie, nothing, only I feel 
cold and sadly out of spirits.” 

“And is that all? I was afraid some one had frightened 
you or spoken rudely to you on seeing you out alone.” 

“No, I am thankful to say nothing of that kind has 
occurred,” Rosalind replied; then in as few words as 
possible she delivered Edgar’s message, and ended by 
begging Millie that she would not continue those secret 
communications with Edgar Wilkerson longer. “You 
know, Millie,” she went on, “that there is nothing I 
would not do to promote your welfare and happiness; but 
as I told you this afternoon, I feel that I am doing wrong 
to encourage you in this disobedient course you are pur- 
suing. Besides, I am almost alone in the world, and 
should I have been seen meeting a gentleman at such a 
late hour as this, who knows what impressions would 
have been left upon the minds of those who might have 
observed me?” 

“I am surprised at you, Rosalind! who could possibly 
be so mean as to think ill of you?” said Millie, inno- 
cently; then putting her arms about Rosalind affection- 
ately, she kissed her upon cheeks, lips and brow. 

At this moment a rap sounded upon the door, and 
when Millie opened it a telegram was handed her, ad- 
dressed to Rosalind. 


298 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Read it, Rosa, and I will sign the book for you,’^ 
said Millie, handing the dispatch to her and taking the 
book from the messenger; but when the door closed after 
the vanishing form of the boy, Rosalind was still holding 
the telegram in her hand unopened. She had sunk into 
a chair, perfectly overcome. 

“Let me read it for you, Rosa,” said Millie, taking it 
from her hand and tearing it open. 

“Your aunt is very ill; come at once,” so ran the com- 
munication, which was signed by Grandmother Under- 
wood. 

A low moan broke from Rosalind’s white lips, and in 
a choked voice she said: 

“Ring, Millie, and find out when the first south-bound 
train is due here; I cannot wait till morning, and will go 
at once if it is possible.” 

Then rising, she went over to where sat her trunk and 
commenced to rearrange its contents. 

“Surely you are not going to start alone; papa, or 
Gerry, or some of the gentlemen will be but too pleased 
to go with you,” replied Millie, complying with Rosa- 
lind’s request by ringing. 

“Yes, alone; Aunt Yilinda is very ill, perhaps dying, 
and I cannot wait until to-morrow. There will be no dif- 
ficulty in making the changes all right, and I do not want 
you to say anything about my going until after I have 
gone; it is entirely unnecessary to trouble any one to go 
with me, so I will make my arrangements as quietly as 
possible.” 

Millie saw the determination written upon Rosalind’s 


GOOD-BYE TO NIAGARA. 


299 


face, and seeing, too, that she was suffering immeasura- 
bly, she refrained from urging her further. In answer to 
the bell a servant came, and upon being questioned, in- 
formed Rosalind that a train going south would leave at 
eleven thirty p. m. ; hence with Millie’s assistance Rosa- 
lind had soon packed her trunk and given the necessary 
orders regarding her baggage, etc. 

Tho’ Judge Underwood supposed it understood by all 
the party that to travel under his escort implied tout frais 
fait, Rosalind completed her arrangements for leaving the 
Clifton House by sending for the clerk and promptly 
paying her bill. The good old aunt had not failed to sup- 
ply her with money sufficient to defray all expenses, at 
the same time instructing her to attend to this, and not- 
withstanding Millie’s strong remonstrances against such 
a proceeding, Rosalind remained firm in complying with 
her Aunt Yilinda’s wishes. Then the train which was to 
bear her so far away from the place that had so fascinated 
her was announced as coming, and nothing remained for 
her but to bid Millie a tearful adieu and take a last loving, 
lingering look at beautiful Niagara. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 


EVENTS OP A SUMMER NIGHT. 

S OME writer lias said that the future sometimes seems 
to sob a low warning of the events it is bringing us, 
and at other times it bursts suddenly as if a rock had rent 
and a grave had opened, from whence issues the body of 
one who slept, and ere you are aware of it you stand face 
to face with a shrouded and unthought of calamity. 

And just so swiftly, just so unexpectedly, had the tide 
changed for Rosalind, who, upon that morning, had 
awoke with a heart overflowing with happiness, to find 
herself before the ushering in of another day, burdened 
with grief and sorrowful foreboding. As the train sped 
onward, she chided herself remorsefully for leaving her 
old aunt, when she might have remained at home with 
her and waited upon, comforting and soothing her in her 
illness. Thus she thought regretfully, while she tossed 
restlessly upon her berth, totally unable to find peaceful 
slumber. And again her thoughts would turn to Gerald 
with that trustful warmth of affection which belongs to 
youth and innocence alone. She pictured to herself his 
surprise and grief upon hearing from Millie of her hasty 
summons home. “I should have left him a line or two, 
saying good-bye, if nothing more; but he will understand 
my feelings and know how to excuse my apparent negli- 
gence, and he will think of me and sympathize with me 
in my trouble, and, though I am far away from him, his 

300 


EVENTS OF A SUMMER NIGHT. 


301 


heart will be with me, for he loves me; yes, proud and 
grand though he be, he loves me.” 

Poor girl. Little did she suspect, even at that moment, 
he was thinking of her bitterly, and striving with all the 
will that remained to him to tear her lovely image from 
his heart, and remember her only as one in whom he had 
fondly trusted, alas! to be so cruelly deceived. No, 
happily for her, she was spared this knowledge, for the 
weight at her heart was already great enough without this 
additional burden. 

And now, kind reader, we will leave Rosalind to con- 
tinue her homeward journey, and return to the Clifton 
House. Judge Underwood had sat in the smokingroorn 
ever since dinner, chatting with Sir Alfred Clarmont and 
Lord Percy Mount] oy, the other two Englishmen who 
had accompanied Lord Harry Waverly to the Falls. 
Norton, too, made one of the company, and while he 
listened to the trio converse — occasionally reiterating the 
Judge’s remarks — Lord Waverly was basking in the sun- 
shine of Mrs. Norton’s smiles; indeed, it seemed that the 
acquaintance of these two had progressed rapidly within 
the last few days, and, though the fastidious lord had 
mentally dubbed the ignorant woman, “Mrs. Malaprop, ” 
he had never ceased to flatter her upon her good English, 
and had unblushingly pronounced her crude speeches 
leux d’ esprit; at the same time, however, estimating 
upon the value of each softly-spoken word. Lord Wav- 
erly was playing his cards to win, and diamonds were 
trumps. Meanwhile, during this little game — which may 
be termed progressive euchre — Judge Underwood and 


302 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the two Englishmen having discussed all the topics of the 
day, had launched upon the subject of American finance, 
a question in which the world-at-large seems greatly in- 
terested, the English particularly. This theme the Judge 
had tried to avoid, for his native pride regarding the 
country, which had been the joy of his forefathers, had 
received shock after shock as he had co^ie to realize how 
its former glory had faded into insignificance, until he 
had ceased to talk about and deplore the situation. But 
something Sir Alfred said served to awaken his sleeping 
ire, and he instantly became excited. “Yes, sir; I will 
admit our country is no longer one to be proud of, for 
the government that George Washington so nobly insti- 
tuted is totally wrecked, and we are a disgraced people, 
which can only be accounted for in one way, namely: 
Thirty years ago Abraham Lincoln was elected President 
of the United States — then the happiest and most prosper- 
ous country under the sun — who immediately declared 
the freedom of the negroes, to which the South rebelled, 
the result of this you are of course all aware. The negroes 
were then given the right of voting, and, together with 
the constant flow of foreign emigration that has for years 
been swelling the tide of humanity, this majority has 
elected men to fill offices of trust and honor who were in no 
wise worthy of such positions ; hence, true American citizens 
have suffered the disgrace of the acts that these fraudu- 
lent usurpers have perpetrated. I tell you, sirs, were it 
possible for Washington — the father of our country — to 
realize the depth to which it has fallen, he would weep 
tears of blood. The frauds, the mercenary motives of 


EVENTS OP A SUMMER NIGHT. 


303 


legislators and statesmen, moreover, the heavy debt that 
is hanging over us, I tell you, sirs, Mephistopheles him- 
self would weep to see the havoc that has been wrought 
in our beautiful land.” 

It w’as evident that the Kentucky Judge was much 
exercised over the present state of affairs, and his audi- 
tors, not wishing to further exasperate him, remained 
, silent. However, he had not finished, for after pausing 
a few moments and taking a few hurried strides about the 
room, he stopped close beside Lord Mountjoy and con- 
tinued: 

“You English landlords talk of the baseness and 
treachery amongst your peasantry, and the probability of 
a general uprising; why, sir,” he vociferated, shaking his 
forefinger in the Englishman’s face, “it would be noth- 
ing compared to what the Southerner suffered from the 
negroes, who were their rightful property. Think of the 
monstrosity of it, those black wretches fighting against 
good masters, who had fed and clothed them, paid their 
doctor’s bills, and in every way caring for them and 
supplying their wants. And now that the race is free 
amongst us, they use their right of citizenship by selling 
their votes for a few paltry dollars, or a few drinks of 
whiskey, and that is why we have a regular team of billy 
goats representing us. As to social equality with the 
race, that is the most preposterous of all ideas. God 
never intended them as our equals, and they are only fit 
to be our subordinates and serve us. In this capacity 
they are far happier than in any other, for nothing satis- 
fies them half so well as working under the supervision 
of a master.” 


304 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


When Judge Underwood ceased speaking his voice had 
almost sunk to a whisper, and it was but too evident to 
the other gentlemen present that he was well nigh ex- 
hausted. However, he still managed to keep his stand- 
ing position, and looked from one to the other as if 
expecting some one of the three to answer him. 

“I quite agree with you, sir, on some points,” replied 
Lord Mount] oy; “I have traveled over the Southern 
States, and consequently learned the relative position of 
the two races. There is truly no doubt that under the 
present administration of the United States the negroes 
are a disadvantage to you, but what will you do with 
them?” 

“The only way I see out of the dilemma is to col- 
onize them; the government is far better able to buy 
them lands and emigrate them than to support their 
schools. Just think of it, there is not one negro out of a 
hundred who owns any taxable property, hence it falls to 
the lot of the white man to keep up these institutions, 
which, instead of civilizing and Christianizing them, only 
add to their bigotry and conceit, for, as a rule, they are 
totally void of gratitude and good principles. 1 am not 
prejudiced against the negro race, but on the contrary, 
have always felt an interest in their welfare, and all that 
I have expressed is based upon experimental knowledge 
of their character.” 

“And you have said nothing but the truth about them 
throughout,” said Norton, who had listened, with more 
animation than was usual for him to exhibit, to every- 
thing the Judge had said. 


EVENTS OP A SUMMER NIGHT. 


305 


“Papa, may I speak to you a moment?” said Millie, ap- 
pearing suddenly in the doorway. 

“Certainly, Camille; go in the parlor, and I will join 
you there in a little while.” 

Surprised to see his daughter searching for him at that 
late hour. Judge Underwood threw down his cigar, and 
bidding the gentlemen a hasty good night, followed Mil- 
lie to the parlor. He found her quite alone, all the rest 
of the ladies having retired to their rooms. The girl 
looked anxious, and in answer to her father’s inquiry as 
to what she wished of him, she replied: 

“I waited up, papa, to tell you that Rosalind started 
for home this evening.” 

“Started for home this evening!” reiterated the Judge, 
in a tone of astonishment. 

“Yes, papa, grandmamma sent her a telegram inform- 
ing her that her aunt was very ill, instructing her to come 
at once, so she got ready and left on the train that went 
out at eleven thirty, and 1 could not persuade her to let 
Gerry or some of the gentlemen of our party know that 
she was going and accompany her, for I was quite sure 
you would not have suffered her to go alone; but she 
would not let me tell you anything about it, and seemed 
so determined that I found it was useless to try to dis- 
suade her.” 

“Miss Morton should not have done this, at least not 
without consulting me; remember, Millie, girls of such a 
tender age must not be left to their own sweet will; after 
all the good opinion with which I had learned to regard 
this girl, I fear she is too willful to have deserved it, and 


306 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


I shall be more careful in future to know something of the 
disposition of girls whom you select for associates.” 

Gerald, on liis way to his room, was passing the parlor 
when his father’s voice fell on his ear; involuntarily he 
paused at the door in time to hear his words concerning 
Millie’s association, hence he thought that Hetty had 
communicated the same to his father that she had to him; 
and wishing to avoid again hearing a discussion of the 
subject, he hastened on, but he was not, as he thought, 
unobserved, his father had discovered him. 

“Gerald, 1 wish you would come in a moment,” he 
called, as he was about to mount the steps, and obedient 
to his father’s wishes, the son turned about and stood 
again beside the parlor door, keeping in the shadow as 
much as possible, for he was conscious of looking ill and 
troubled and did not wish to be interrogated. 

“What do you think, Gerald? Miss Morton has taken 
a very unceremonious leave of us this evening,” were his 
father’s words of greeting as he stopped just without and 
waited to hear what it was he wished of him. 

“Great heaven!” Gerald exclaimed, under his breath, 
“has she eloped with Edgar?” 

This was the first thought that entered his bewildered 
mind, and when he tried to make some reply to his father 
it was impossible for him to utter a syllable. But the 
Judge, too much engrossed with his subject to notice 
Gerald’s strange manner, continued: 

“I have learned through Millie of this young lady’s 
departure, and tho’ I regret to hear of Miss Yilinda’s ill- 
ness, it does not excuse her niece’s headstrong conduct; 


EVENTS OP A SUMMER NIGHT. 


307 


who would have thought of her leaviug here without con- 
sulting me?” 

Gerald experienced much relief upon hearing this, for 
no matter how great had been his disillusion, he was not 
prepared for the shock the news of Rosalind’s elopement 
would have caused him. 

“How did you hear of Miss Morton’s illness?” he 
managed to ask, and after his father had explained about 
tlie telegram he turned and walked away. Then seeing 
Edgar approaching, he advanced a few steps to meet him, 
and asked sternly, “Have you heard the news?” 

“No,” replied Edgar, “nothing serious, I hope,” at 
the same time thinking that Gerald’s face went to prove 
that such was the case. 

“Miss Yilinda Morton is ill and her niece was tel- 
egraphed for; she left Niagara to-night alone.” 

While he spoke he did not move his eyes from Edgar’s 
face, thinking to see a betrayal of feeling on his part 
upon being informed that Rosalind had gone alone upon 
such a long journey. But not so, for there came no 
change over Edgar’s face, and he replied simply enough, 
“I am sorry,” just as any one would have replied upon 
hearing of the illness of a neighbor or a mere acquaint- 
ance. 

“Good God!” soliloquized Gerald, between his clinched 
teeth, “has the man no feeling, that he can stand here in 
this unconcerned manner and hear of Rosalind, to whom 
he was perhaps scarcely two hours ago plighting his troth, 
taking this sorrowful journey alone? Can it be that after 
all he is only a gay Lothario, who has no purpose in 


308 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


gaining her affection but to amuse himself? Bj heaven! 
if I knew to a certainty that he had wronged her, I would 
make him rue the day he ever crossed my path,” he con- 
tinued, still keeping his eyes fixed defiantly on Edgar. 

“There will be another train leaving here for the South 
between one and two o’clock. Will you go down on that 
one?” he asked, abruptly. 

“No, indeed! why should I? nothing has called me 
home. Really, Gerald, you talk strangely, and, pardon 
me for saying it, you look as strangely as you speak.” 

Gerald would have, no doubt, given him a cutting 
answer had not Millie interrupted them by appearing in 
their midst just at this time. 

“What’s the matter, Gerry?” she asked, alarmedly, 
upon catching sight of her brother’s white face. “Surely 
you are ill; never saw you look so before. Say, what is 
the matter? ” 

“It is true, Millie, that 1 am not feeling very well, 
but as it is only a headache you need not be alarmed. I 
am going to bed now and see if I can sleep it off; good 
night.” 

He tried to smile as he sp^oke, but his lips seemed stiff 
and nerveless, and his voice had in it an unnatural sound 
which Millie did not fail to observe. She noticed, too, 
how his face had changed, not only with the pallor that 
it wore, but it appeared as if it had been suddenly robbed 
of all its freshness and youth. Upon reaching his room, 
the first object Gerald’s eyes rested upon was Fred. The 
boy was fast asleep sitting by the window as if he had 
waited up for his brother until he had at last succumbed 


EVENTS OP A SUMMER NIGHT. 


309 


to tired nature. For some moments he stood looking at 
the sleeper, as if lost in deep thought. He was thinking 
of his own happy youth, and comparing it with his pres- 
ent misery, and there stole into his countenance an ex- 
pression of pity which blended strangely with that of 
bitter disappointment. He recalled his first term at col- 
lege — the eft’orts, the pains. The successes of that first 
year at Frankfort appeared to him now a ghastly mis- 
take. He was not but a year older than Fred at that 
time, but his ambition to win and wear laurels of glory 
took possession of him, and caused him to put aside all 
his boyish pleasures. And on and on through life it 
had been the same, striving for the higher, nobler life, 
reaching far out for the unattainable. What fruition had 
he reaped by all this knowledge ? What good had all his 
triumphs done him ? for life had been full of disappoint- 
ments, and at best seemed shallow and worthless. “Poor, 
weak, human nature,” he muttered; then called Fred, 
waking him from his peaceful slumber to make him get 
ready for retiring. 

“You look as though you were all out of sorts, Gerry,” 
said the younger brother, rousing up and giving him a 
scrutinizing glance of mingled pity and affection. 

“lam not feeling exactly well, Fred, but it is nothing 
more serious than a headache; I will be all right by 
morning; so go to sleep and dream of your English lord,” 
he added, with a poor attempt at a smile. 

“ You are more after my idea of a lord, and are worth 
a dozen, yes, a thousand, such as he,” replied the boy, 
sleepily, as the heavy lids closed and his unfettered mind 
drifted into the far-away realms of dreamland. 


310 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Long hours afterward, Gerald sat there thinking 
deeply. He remembered another night only a short time 
prior to this, before leaving Ivy Crown, when he had 
kept just such a vigil, and he also called to mind the 
many resolves he had made on that night, which, under 
the influence of Kosalind’s presence, had melted away 
like snow beneath the sunshine. Now the veil was torn 
away, and he saw himself as he really was — the slave of 
feeling, whose empire he had for eight years laughed to 
scorn. But he had been happy during that short-lived 
dream, and though the awakening caused him to feel a 
sore contempt for his weakness and lack of self-knowl- 
edge, he could not deny that those had been days fraught 
with delight, the most exquisite, when he had allowed his 
heart to go out to her in all the fullness and completeness 
of its great love. Having outlived the quick growing 
love of the boy, he had now acknowledged to his soul 
that the peace and joy and well-being of his whole future 
life depended upon this lovely girl. The world and 
everything pertaining to it had suddenly enlarged and 
beautified into the loveliest of abodes that his imagina- 
tion had ever pictured, and the stern cynical second na- 
ture, which he had made for himself, had passed away, 
as if he had died and been resurrected into a new being. 
And after all, was he doomed to realize the lonely and 
blighted life that now stretched out before him? “ Alas 
for human hopes and human joys; were they all to end 
in this way ? ” he queried, while his heart grew sick and 
faint beneath the load of this terrible certainty, and drop- 
ping his face in his hands, in the anguish of his spirit he 
groaned aloud. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A SORROWFUL HOME-COMING. 

jT was late in the afternoon of the second day of 
Rosalind’s journey when she reached Livingston sta- 
tion, and it was with a heavy heart that she stepped upon 
the platform. The weather had suddenly changed within 
the last few hours, and a fine, misty rain was falling, ren- 
dering the atmosphere chill and disagreeable; but it was 
not this alone that caused the girl to shudder while she 
stood there gazing out upon the blurred landscape and 
sombre-hued sky. A dread feeling of expectancy had 
seized hold of her with an ominous warning. She had 
telegraphed old Mrs. Underwood the night she left 
Niagara at what time she might be expected to arrive at 
home; hence felt confident that Peter would meet her, 
and, true to her expectation, she soon discovered the 
Morton carriage, some distance off, slowly approaching, 
and waited in breathless anxiety for news of her aunt. 
But the question died upon her lips as the vehicle drew 
near and she had a closer view of Peter’s face, for already 
she divined the sad truth. “Aunt Yilinda is either 
dead or dying?” she gasped, as the horses came to a 
standstill, and she stood confronting Peter. “Dead, 
Miss Rosalin, clean dead and gone; she gib up her gost 
las’ night, and we am all lef’ behind,” replied the old 
servant, taking off his hat and greeting Rosalind in his 
usually humble manner, and while he bowed his white 

311 


312 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


head, great tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks, and 
long-drawn sobs heaved his breast. But Rosalind did 
not hear the finishing clause of Peter’s sentence, for with 
his first words a perfect storm of grief had burst forth, while 
every little while between her anguished mourns would 
come the plaintive cry, “Dead, dead. Aunt Yilinda dead, 
and again 1 am alone.” 

Such had been the refrain of her sorrowful wail when 
her father had passed away, and now she realizes that she 
is again bereft of all that remained to her whom she could 
claim as a relation; no other kind old aunt was waiting to 
take her to her home and heart as this dear, good woman 
had done; alas! her’s was a lonely lot indeed. And while 
she recalled the fact that less than one year ago she had 
seen the earth cover her dear father, and now the grave 
would also rob her of the one who had so kindly sheltered 
her and in a way filled his place, her heart felt full of bit- 
terness, and she asked herself “if it could be possible that 
such a thing as fate hung over the lives of mortals, and, 
if such was true, was she one of the ill-fated?” 

The dim afternoon was fast darkening into night as the 
carriage passed through the gloomy woods to Morton 
Place, and Rosalind told herself that in all her future life 
she would never forget that drive; the picture of that des- 
olate scene would stamp itself upon her memory forever. 
The semi-darkness, the unceasing drip, drip of the rain, 
the sighing of the wind as it swayed the heavily foliaged 
trees, the lonely marshes below and the dark scudding 
clouds above. Never since the night of her father’s 
death had sights and sounds so painfully impressed her. 


A SORROWFUL HOME-COMING. 


313 


and looking back to that memorable night, it seemed that 
she, too, had died. She had heard it said that during 
our lives we die many times before we are laid away, 
and then it was that the conviction of the truth of this 
theory came forcibly to her. 

At last Morton Place was reached, and as Rosalind 
moved slowly up the walk she was vaguely conscious of 
that strange stillness and solemnity that seems always to 
hover about the house of death. At the door she was met 
by Marietta, who, with streaming eyes, took her hand, as 
if she was only a little child, and led her into the sitting 
room, where she had kindled a comfortable fire for the 
purpose of driving away the dampness. 

“Set down right here, Miss Rosalin, and let me fetch 
you a strong cup of tea,” said the faithful negress, plac- 
ing Rosalind in an easy chair and stirring up the fire. 

And Rosalind, chill and sick at heart, felt constrained 
to do her bidding. Resting thus while Marietta went to 
prepare her tea, she looked around the familiar walls, 
where, together with her Aunt Yilinda, she had sat so 
often, listening to her talk and learning the many useful 
lessons she had taught her, when suddenly she heard a 
low, clucking sound, coming from a distant part of the 
room, and turning her head in that direction her eyes 
rested on Polly. The sight of the bird was too pitiful, 
and caused Rosalind a fresh gush of tears, for if ever 
grief was depicted upon any living thing, it was in every 
movement of the disconsolate looking parrot. Crouched 
upon the lowest perch of its cage, with its head tucked 
down, and half-closed eyes, rocking to and fro with 


314 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the same restless motion that its mistress had always 
assumed when worried or perplexed over anything, Folly 
indeed presented a most woeful picture. Rosalind went 
over to the bird and opened the door of the cage and 
smoothed her ruffled plumage, at the same time speaking 
to her softly. Upon hearing the girl’s voice. Folly gave 
a satisfactory little chuckle, and then again lapsed into a 
solemn silence. 

“Won’t Folly come to Rosa?” she asked, holding out 
her hand. But Folly only rocked herself more rapidly, 
and cried out, “All sick, all sick, Misses sick. Folly sick, 
all so sick, so sick; hello* Folly! poor Folly, poor Folly.” 

The shrill tones sank lower and lower as the bird re- 
peated these phrases, and it seemed to Rosalind that in its 
voice, too, there was a sound of a sob. 

“Foor Folly, poor Folly,” she reiterated, sadly, as 
she turned from the cage with blinding tears and took the 
cup of tea from Marietta’s hand. After swallowing a 
few spoonfuls, she put the cup down, saying: 

“I am ready, Marietta; take me to see Aunt Yilinda. ” 

The old negress motioned her to follow, and led the 
way to the old-fashioned parlor, where lay all that re- 
mained of the most worthy woman. The room was dimly 
lighted, and Rosalind did not see who were the watchers, 
but went straight up to where lay the body of her sainted 
relative. Yery gently and lovingly did the faithful 
Marietta remove the white drapery and disclose to Rosa- 
lind the waxen-like face and stiffened form of the dead. 
For some moments she stood gazing down upon the calm, 
still face, with its firmly closed lips and steady pose of 


A SORROWFUL HOME-COMING 


315 


features, and she realized that her death, like her life, 
had been serenely fearless and tranquil, and tried to feel 
consoled by believing that her spirit had found perpetual 
joy in that land of the blessed. But when she remem- 
bered her own solitary life, a swift revulsion of feeling 
begun within her, and, try as she would, she could not 
stay the tide of rebellious queries that rose to her lips. 
Why was it that she had been deprived of a mother’s love 
and care, even in her earliest babyhood, and why had her 
father been snatched away from her just when she most 
needed his protection ? And now, to make her isolation 
complete, the only one that had remained to her had gone 
the way of all the rest. While these incomprehensible 
enigmas rose up to confront her, she sat down beside the 
body of the dead woman in a dazed kind of way that 
frightened her; she wondered if she was going mad, 
such a strange, dizzy feeling had come darkly over her. 
Then, completely overcome, she fell into a deep, death- 
like swoon. 

‘‘The poor child has fainted plum dead away,” said 
Mrs. Wilkerson, advancing hurriedly from the other part 
of the room. “ Kun and get me the campfire. Marietta; 
run this instant, and tell Peter to come here quick; we 
must get her out of here before she comes to her senses.” 

And while Mrs. Wilkerson applied the camphor. Mari- 
etta ran to find Peter, wringing her hands and crying as 
she went. She found Peter in the kitchen huddled to- 
gether with his late Mistress’ cats, who seemed to be 
listening for the well-known voice to call them to supper, 
which was, alas, silenced in death. The group made an- 


316 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


other sad picture, but it was one that Marietta did not 
take time to contemplate, for, upon seeing Peter, she 
cried out: 

“Go to de parler! go quick, for Miss Koslin done 
fainted clar away!” 

“Dar, I done tole you so, dat hits more than likely de 
Lord will take her, too,” replied Peter, hurrying to the 
room where the young girl lay back in her chair, white 
and motionless, and lifting her in his arms as though she 
was an infant. 

“Take her up to her room, Peter, and lay her on the 
bed, and I wdll tend to her, de poor lamb,” said Marietta, 
as he bore the inanimate form of the girl from the pres- 
ence of the dead. 

In her own room, under the judicious care of the old 
servant, Rosalind soon recovered consciousness; but she 
was spared the realism of her new sorrow by the sleeping 
potion at once administered by Mrs. Wilkerson, the result 
of which being a restful slumber. When she awoke on 
the following morning the sun was shining brightly; not 
one vestige of yesterday’s gloom remained. For some 
time after awakening, Rosalind was unable to recall the 
occurrences of the last few days; but when she had col- 
lected her thoughts sufficiently to remember everything 
the sad reality went to her heart like a heavy blow; yet 
out of all this chaos of grief and loneliness there came 
one gleam of hope and comfort, and like a bright star 
that shines out from a darkened sky over a weary and 
belated traveler, so it was that this radiance shone out, 
illumining her night. 


A SORROWFUL HOME-COMING. 


317 


“Gerald loves me,” she murmured. “After all my 
sorrow, God has been very good to me, and I am not left 
alone, for he is the truest and noblest man living, and I 
know that he will sympathize with me with his whole 
heart.” 

Thus buoyed up by this hope and trust, she arose from 
her bed, made her toilette and went down stairs. Mrs. 
Wilkerson and one of her daughters were already seated 
at the breakfast table when Kosalind entered, and, seat- 
ing herself near the matron, she made inquiries concern- 
ing her aunt’s death. 

‘ ‘ It was her same old complaint. Miss, that ailed her — 
neuralgia. The doctors said it got to her heart, and that 
is what took her off,” said Mrs. Wilkerson, in reply to 
Rosalind’s question. 

The niece continued silent, and she went on: 

“You see, I hadn’t been over to see the old lady for a 
spell; so one day last week I sent the girls over to see 
how she was gitting along, being that you was gone, and 
thay come back and sed Miss Yilindy want well, and that 
she peared like she was mighty put out bout somthin. 
Thare was a lawyer here they sed, and he had some papers 
for her to sign, and talked sassy-like to the old lady, and 
I al’ays will bleve that kinder carried her off sooner than 
she’d gone hif she’d bin let alone.” 

Rosalind listened sadly to this recital of the illiterate 
woman, wondering curiously what kind of business trans- 
action her old aunt could have had that would have served 
to worry her. But she refrained from questioning the 
neighbor further, and here the subject was dropped. 


318 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


However, it was not long until the loquacious woman 
commenced a new theme still more unpleasant to hear, 
for it was in abuse of the Underwoods; also censuring her 
son, Edgar, for his intimate association with this family. 

“He will come to grief yet. Miss, see if he don’t, for 
running after them people,” she wound up, by asserting 
most confidently. 

Kosalind felt greatly hurt and embarrassed by hearing 
her friends thus assailed, but remained in respectful 
silence while the irate woman talked. She did not ap- 
prove of Mrs. AVilkerson’s inclination to gossip and say 
hard things of her neighbors, but what could she do to 
avert it ? This woman had been good to her Aunt Yilinda 
at the time of her absence, and had watched beside her 
remains; hence, she could say nothing in defense of her 
friends. 

All the day was spent by the grandniece in receiving 
visits of condolence from the friends and neighbors of 
the deceased — which is an old custom of the country — 
and all day she anxiously expected some of the inmates 
of Ivy Crown, but no one came. 

The next day was the funeral, and among the lovely 
array of floral ofierings, there came one from Ivy Crown. 
Later on. Judge Underwood and his mother swelled the 
funeral cortege that followed Miss Yilinda to the pretty 
little cemetery, but none of the rest of the family were 
present. 

“Where is Millie that she does not come to me in my 
sorrow?” Rosalind asked herself time and time again; 
then she wondered if the party had returned, or had 


A SORROWFUL HOME-COMING. 


319 


their tour been extended over Canada, as they had, to 
some extent, contemplated. Had the Judge and his 
mother shown her more sympathy and treated her more 
friendly, she would have felt no hesitancy in asking, at 
least, if Millie had returned. But their manner had been 
so cold and restrained towards her that her sensitive 
nature was wounded too deeply for words. They had 
merely given her a cold hand-shake upon meeting her, 
and not until after they had returned from the grave did 
they speak to her a single syllable. Then the old lady 
approached the orphan, and, holding out her hand, said: 

“May the Lord be with you, child, and guide your 
erring footsteps;” then followed the Judge’s silent hand- 
shake, and without a word more, or even a message from 
Millie, Rosalind saw the two depart. 

“What can it mean? ” she thought, “ their cold, strange 
manner, and moreover, the old lady’s strange words.” It 
was unaccountable to her and caused her heart to ache 
with a bitterness she had never before experienced. For 
never before had friends, whom she had loved and trusted, 
turned coldly from her; and to think, too, that Gerald 
had, as it seemed, ceased to remember her, was heart- 
rending in the extreme. “What can it mean! oh, God, 
what can it mean?” was the stifled cry upon her lips as 
she watched the Underwood carriage roll away. 

Rosalind had seen her Aunt Uilinda laid away in the 
shade of the great trees which grouped about the ceme- 
tery, where slumbered many of the good people of the 
vicinity; but though handsome monuments and countless 
flowers marked the resting places of those who had gone 


320 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


before, she knew full well that no one of the friends of 
the departed had ever shed such bitter, hopeless tears as 
she had upon that day — tears of loneliness, grief, humilia- 
tion and despair had all fallen upon the old aunt’s grave. 
But not alone did she weep, for many others had also 
wept over the grave of this just and upright woman who 
had, for over forty years, resided among them, beloved 
and honored by all. But far better had these good peo- 
ple reserved their tears for the beautiful orphan protege 
than to have shed them over the dead, for Miss Yilinda 
had passed beyond the realms of sorrow, while Bosalind 
was just entering into its surging vortex. 

The next day after the funeral. Miss Yilinda’s lawyer 
and two other gentlemen, whom Rosalind remembered to 
have seen on several occasions, came to Morton Place, 
and the grief-stricken girl was summoned to their pres- 
ence. Nerving herself for the ordeal as best she could, 
she entered the room where the three gentlemen awaited 
her. The lawyer bowed, and, advancing a few steps 
toward her, said: 

“My name is Roberts; and this is Miss Morton, Jr., I 
presume. Doubtless you remember me as your late aunt’s 
attorney? ” 

“Yes, I remember you, Mr. Roberts, as my aunt’s 
legal adviser,” replied Rosalind, bowing gravely to the 
three gentlemen. 

“Permit me. Miss Morton, to introduce you to Messrs. 
Crain and Crawford, bankers, with whom your late aunt 
was engaged in a business transaction. These gentlemen 
and myself came here to-day on business of a most im- 


A SORROWFUL HOME-COMING. 


321 


portant character, and, though we dislike to disturb you, 
a-hem, a-hem; so soon after your (a-hem) unfortunate loss, 
business is business, you know, and must be attended to.” 

Again Rosalind bowed, and the attorney went on: 

“Do you know. Miss Morton, whether or not your late 
aunt left a will? ” 

“I really do not know, Mr. Roberts; Aunt Yilinda 
never confided to me anything concerning her business 
affairs.” 

“Well, Miss Morton, a-hem, a-hem, under these cir- 
cumstances it is best that you should be informed at once 
how matters stand, so 1 will proceed to explain to you the 
present situation. Ten years ago I wrote Miss Yilinda 
Marmaduke Morton’s will, which was made in favor of 
your late father, Daniel Morton. After his death, 
however, the old lady informed me that she wished 
another will written and would write me specifying a 
time when I should come down and attend to it for her; 
but tlio’ I have been here twice as often as necessary 
since, she still deferred making the new will, which was 
to bequeath all her worldly possessions to yourself. But 
since that determination was expressed by her the estate 
has become seriously involved, for only a short time after 
this she borrowed the sum of seventeen thousand dollars 
from these gentlemen, who represent the banking firm of 
Crain & Crawford, mortgaging her farm as security for 
the amount.” 

Rosalind did not reply, but the astonishment she expe- 
rienced upon hearing this was fully depicted upon her 
countenance. 


21 


322 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“It seems, Miss Morton, that your Aunt Yilinda was 
deeply in debt, and borrowed this money for the purpose 
of settling up with her creditors; and now, since I have 
given you this very necessary information, we, with your 
permission, will examine your aunt’s papers. You must 
see for yourself just how Miss Morton, senior, has left 
her business, therefore we wish to show you the duplicate 
contract which we will find among her papers; further- 
more, we hope it is fully understood by you that if there 
has been no other arrangement made for the payment of 
this borrowed money, the firm of Crain & Crawford will 
be obliged to lay claim to the estate in liquidation of the 
debt.” 

Rosalind had remained calm and collected throughout 
this recital, and not until the lawyer proclaimed this last 
sentence did she betray the least emotion. Like her 
father, she gave but little thought to money or anything 
pertaining to it; but this had been the home of the dear 
old aunt, who for forty years had seen the sun rise and 
set over and beyond those forest hills, and to see the old 
place go into the hands of strangers would grieve her 
as nothing else connected with finance could do; this 
thought caused the girl’s lips to tremble, while tears filled 
her eyes and involuntarily splashed down her cheeks. 
But bravely forcing back the rising tide of feeling, she 
arose, and going into the solitary living-room which had 
been her aunt’s, she brought out a bunch of keys and 
gave them to the lawyer. 

“You will find that one of these keys unlocks this 
desk, in which Aunt Yilinda kept all her private papers. 


A SORROWFUL HOME-COMING. 


323 


but I cannot tell you which one,” she added, taking her 
seat mechanically some distance from the trio. 

In a very short time the nimble fingers of the energetic 
man of business had run over and sorted out the key, fitted 
it and opened the desk, then turning to Kosalind, he said: 

“Sit here, near me, Miss Morton, and examine these 
papers with me. ” 

And Kosalind, with all those contending emotions run- 
ning riot through her heart and brain, was not spared the 
painful task. There were receipts, notes and old letters 
contained within the escritoire of the dead aunt, and lastly 
was found the duplicate copy of the mortgage, also a let- 
ter addressed to Rosalind in Miss Yilinda’s handwriting, 
which was sealed and marked private, therefore not sub- 
ject to examination. This letter was the first token the 
girl had found of her aunt’s remembrance of herself, and 
it was with impatience and anxiety she awaited the de- 
parture of the trio, that she might be at liberty to read 
the lines she had perhaps penned to her on her dying 
bed. At last the search was concluded, and the lawyer 
arose from the desk. 

“There is no will, at least none amongst these papers; 
neither has anything been left for the settlement of the 
debt; hence the only facts to be arrived at are these: your 
aunt has died intestate, as you are a witness, with a 
heavy mortgage involving her property; believe me. Miss 
Morton, you have my kindest sympathy,” the attorney 
said, respectfully; then the three men took their leave. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A BITTER CUP. 

AS soon as the door closed behind them, Rosalind has- 
/ tened to her own room, where she might, alone 
and undisturbed, read the old aunt’s parting words, and 
weep over them until her heart would to some extent, at 
least, be relieved of its great burden. Accordingly, on 
entering the room and locking the door, she tremblingly 
opened the letter. Two fifty-dollar bills were inclosed 
within; the missive bore no date, and ran as follows: 
“My dear and honored niece: I have been suffering 
greatly for the last twenty-four hours, and, thinking that 
possibly my end is approaching, I write this to explain to 
you how my business is arranged, and, also, say a word of 
farewell. It is impossible for me to express to you how 
much I am grieved that I cannot leave you with a home, 
if nothing else; but it can’t be helped, and it is better 
that you should hear the truth from me, as sooner or later 
you will hear it from others. Yes, it is true, niece Rosa- 
lind, that Morton Place is mortgaged, and will go into 
the hands of the banking firm of Crain & Crawford as 
soon as I am laid away. Morton Place is well worth 
twenty-five thousand, but it is mortgaged as security for 
the sum of seventeen thousand, and as I see no way of 
paying the debt, it will have to go. There are also other 
debts owing. But after the selling off of my household 
goods, horses and cattle, if there is anything over, it is 

324 


A BITTER CUP. 


325 


yours. The money I inclose is all 1 have by me at the 
present; use it as you need it. It may be that I may live 
for years yet, but I write this to you, in case of my death. 
There will be no hurry for you to leave here if this should 
happen, as you are in possession, and to my knowledge 
the law allows you six months, which will give you ample 
time to find a good situation as a teacher, or governess in 
some good family. You have the friendship and interest of 
the Underwoods, and through the Judge’s influence you 
will find but little trouble in getting a good place. I 
know, dear child, that you do not know the value of 
money, or do you know the misery of poverty, and I 
know, too, that your true heart will grieve more for the 
loss of your old aunt than for the property that would 
have been yours under other circumstances. However, 
you must remember that to sit down and grieve for me 
would be more than useless, and I would rather you 
would think about yourself; so take courage and be brave 
and determined to conquer in whatever you undertake. 
Learn to look after your own interests while you are 
alone, and remember, should Gerald Underwood wish to 
make you his wife, I would have no objections were I 
living — much less dead. You are altogether too good 
and pure-minded to be left in this cold world without a 
protector, and I know of no young man as worthy of 
you as he. I have no personal property of any value to 
leave you except my poll parrot, so I leave you the bird 
to have and keep forever. And now, niece Kosalind, I 
do hereby charge you with my dying breath, never to 
part with my last gift. No matter what may be the cir- 


326 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


cumstances, don’t part with Polly. The bird’s cage is 
getting old; in about a year from now get a new one, 
and take the old one to pieces and keep it in remembrance 
of me. I leave my cats and dogs to Peter and Marietta; 
tell them to be good to my poor boys, and the dogs also. 
And now, niece Kosalind, if I never see you again, re- 
member my prayer will be for you with my dying breath. 
I feel exhausted and can write no more. Good-bye, and 
may God be with you and keep you pure and holy. 

‘‘Your loving aunt, 

“Yilinda Makmadu — ” 

Here the hand seemed to have faltered, and Kosa- 
lind knew that to have written this long letter must 
have cost the sufferer a great effort. After reading the 
lines, that the good woman had penned, through a mist of 
tears, the girl sat for a long time weeping unrestrainedly; 
but tho’ the floodgates seemed to have well-nigh spent 
themselves, she had not experienced the relief tears had 
always brought her. At last she rose up, and going over 
to where hung her father’s portrait, she knelt before it, 
and with face upraised and tear-swollen eyes, and hands 
tightly pressed against her breast, she tried to pray. But 
in vain, for her dry lips could not form a word or sen- 
tence, and she could only kneel there, dumbly gazing 
upon that loved face, that then seemed to look down 
upon her pityingly, as if aware of the new sorrow which 
had fallen upon her. It had become a habit with her 
since her father’s death to kneel where she could look 
into that pictured face' while saying her prayers, for it 
carried her back to her childhood when she had knelt at 


A BITTER CUP. 


327 


his knee and her infant lips had lisped “Our Father. ” 
Looking into his eyes had always given her faith and 
hope that her petition would be heard and answered; but 
alas! this inspiration was also denied her. The shadows 
of the twilight stole in through the open casement, and 
deepened around her until darkness had encompassed her, 
but still the heart-sick girl continued to kneel there, re- 
membering bitterly that it was the first time in all her life 
that she could not approach the throne of grace, could 
make no appeal to Him whom she had always before taken 
her griefs and joys, hopes and fears, and had always 
found the peace and comfort for which she had asked. 
Upon this day it seemed that the*kind Father was far 
away from her; whither now should she turn in this hour 
of loneliness and gloom? From this sad revery Rosalind 
was aroused by a rap at her door. Upon opening it she 
found Marietta standing there, looking grieved and anx- 
ious. 

“Come, Miss Rosalin, and go rite doun to de dining- 
room and ete somthin; youse ben here seberl days an 
habent ete as much as I could put in Polly’s eye,” the 
old woman said, beseechingly. 

“I am not in the least hungry. Marietta, and do not 
think I can eat, but, since you wish it, I will go down 
with you,” Rosalind replied. While speaking she leaned 
against the door for support, and her face, upon which 
the lamp the negress held in her hand refiected, appeared 
almost ghastly in its extreme pallor. 

“But you must ete somthin; jus tu think, you hab ben 
here gying on fore days and hasn’t ete -nufiin. Why, 


328 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Miss Rosalin, chile, you will die, shor as dars a world, if 
you don’t ete,” Marietta cried, in terror. 

‘'Perhaps it would be best for me if I should,” Rosa- 
lind replied, dejectedly, as she followed the old woman 
down the stairs. 

“Oh, Miss Rosalin, don’t say dat, when taint yore 
time yet. De good Lord put you here till he wants you 
up dar, and he’ll call yer when he’s ready widout your 
insisten on de matter. Dats wat ole Miss always sed, and 
I knos she wuz right.” 

“Yes, Marietta, you have said truly, but it is terrible 
for me to bear,” the poor girl answered, as she walked up 
and down the supper room, apparently unconscious of 
the smoking viands laid out upon the white damask be- 
fore her. 

“I kno it am hard, honey, and am mighty sorry fo you, 
but it’s hard fo me tu, for whar am I gwyne tu git another 
sich a home? but we mus only trust in de Lord; and now 
you must jist set down hare an ete somthin,” Marietta 
said, placing a chair for her young mistress and proceeding 
to pour out a cup of fragrant tea. 

Rosalind stopped in her restless walk, and seating her- 
self at the table, turned to Marietta and asked, abruptly: 

“Have you heard anything from Ivy Crown? I mean 
have the party all returned from Niagara?” 

“Yes, Miss Rosalin, dey all cum back de day after you 
arriv; and jist tu think, none ob dem but de Jedge and 
ole Miss Underwood hab sot foot on dis place. I sed tu 
Peter tu-day dat it am curious like dat Miss Millie should 
neglect you now, bein as she always spressed sich a 


A BITTER CUP. 


329 


liking fo you befo. And Peter said it did look right 
down bad, an he couldn’t presactly understand it, fo de 
Jedge’s family were not de kine ob people tu go back on 
any one in misfortune, yet it did look like bein dat you 
warent an aress dey war all treating you shabby. But 
hits my pinion thet dars somethin else, for tru nuff hit 
haint like de Underwoods tu be scornful roun anybody, 
septen Miss Henritta, who wuz always proud and stuck 
up.” 

Rosalind had not thought of attributing the coldness of 
this family to the fact that she had been left portionless, 
and at these words of the old servant her heart throbbed 
more painfully still and her lips quivered, while into the 
dark blue eyes there came an expression of increased 
agony. 

Marietta, seeing the renewed suffering her words had 
caused, felt sorry, and endeavored to divert her mind by 
speaking on another subject, 

“I spose you knows bout Miss Henritta gwine to git 
married soon to dat gentman who went wid her on de 
trip?” she said, interrogatively. 

“No, I did not know it,” was the terse reply. 

“Well, dats de fac; de cook at Hivy Croun tole me all 
bout hit de day ole miss was berried. She sed dat ware 
de reson dey all corned back an didn’t extind dar bisit 
to som Oder plac, bein dat Miss Henritta was obleged to 
com bac to git reddy fur the weddin; she done sent way 
off to New York for her. weddin finry, an de yong wid- 
der what went wid her to Nagra Falls is guine to be de 
only bridesmaid; she sont fur her tings whar Miss Hen- 


330 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


ritta did. And sich grand times as dey am guine to hav 
at Hivy Croun neber ware herd ob in dis contry afore. 
Jest to think, Miss Kosalin, dey am guine clar to Girusa- 
lim on dar bridel tower. Clary, de cook, tole me all 
about hit, and sed, tu, dat de Jedge was awful put out 
case Master Gerld wouldn’t go long wid dem as best man 
for de bridegrume; but Massa Gerld clars he won’t go, an 
Clary seys dat de grume has done asked de Jedge tu be 
de best man.” 

Rosalind heard all that Marietta had to say without in- 
terrupting her, and tho’ she had shown but little interest 
in this volunteer information, she was, however, con- 
scious of a thrill of gratification upon hearing that Gerald 
would not make one of the party. Intuitively she felt 
that it was on account of herself that he had refused to 
go on the bridal tour. Furthermore, she tried to console 
herself by thinking that it was through the delicacy of 
his feelings that he had remained away from her at this 
time, thinking a visit would be an intrusion upon her 
grief, and that, after all her doubts, fears and misgivings, 
he did care for her, did sympathize with her in her lone- 
liness and sorrow. Stimulated by this thought, new hope 
came into her heart, and when she rose from the table it 
was with more cheerfulness than she had spoken since her 
return that she addressed a few words to Marietta. ‘‘Poor 
Polly so sick,” proclaimed the bird, as she passed on her 
way to her room and put some crackers in the cage. But 
Rosalind did not feel in the mood to console Polly on this 
evening; she had too many other things to think about, 
and wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Another day, 


A BITTER CUP. 


331 


and still another, and yet no tidings from the inmates 
of Ivy Crown, until three weeks had passed since the 
funeral of Miss Yilinda, and it seemed — as far as the 
Underwoods were concerned — Kosalind, too, might have 
died and been buried without their apparent knowledge; 
thus far they had ignored her very existence. Her belief 
in the sincerity of Millie’s friendship had been as firm as 
a rock, also in that of Gerald’s affection; but it was im- 
possible for her to continue in this childlike faith and 
trust, when brought to bear with these circumstances, for 
belief is a sentiment, and can be shaken, no matter how 
tenaciously the heart clings to it; and as the days went 
slowly by doubts of this kind strengthened and intensi- 
fied, redoubling the pain at her heart and chilling it as if 
a hand of ice had laid hold upon it. These doubts were 
horrible to Rosalind; she realized that tho’ her body 
lived, her spirit had been wounded unto death, for, after 
all, those are the weapons that kill — scorn, neglect and 
inconstancy pierce the heart with deadlier pangs than the 
sharpest-bladed stiletto. Thus, after these weary weeks 
of waiting and sickening suspense, Rosalind, one afternoon, 
with a feverish instinct to reach solitude and the open air, 
tied on a plain black hat and wandered into the wood which 
lay between Morton Place and Ivy Crown. She was clad 
in the sombre shades of mourning, which added to the 
transparency of her complexion, and notwithstanding the 
trouble and despondency that was weighing down her 
spirit, she had never looked lovelier. The afternoon was 
bright and balmy as any had been in the summer months 
gone by, tho’ September was more than a week old, and 


332 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Rosalind thought sadly how long the time seemed since 
she left Niagara, and how she had waited and hoped for 
some message from Millie — some token of remembrance 
from Gerald — but had waited and hoped in vain„ She 
walked on, scarcely heeding where her footsteps led her, 
and as she followed the winding paths which led through 
the dense forest, she was thinking deeply. Her proud 
nature shrank from applying to Judge Underwood for ad- 
vice and aid in procuring a situation, which her aunt had 
suggested. She had been too greatly shocked and 
wounded by their neglect to approach them in any way. 

‘‘1 will go away from here, where I can never hear of 
them again, if my heart breaks for it,” she was saying to 
herself, her eyes filling with unbidden tears, when look- 
ing up who should she see advancing towards her but 
Gerald. He had not observed her yet, she was confident, 
for his head was bent forward, and his eyes were fixed 
upon the ground, as if in deep meditation, and for one * 
moment the wild desire to rush to one side and let him 
pass without knowing that she was near took possession 
of her; but the wish was only momentary; pride came to 
her rescue, and raising her head almost haughtily, she was 
in the act of passing him by, when he stopped imme- 
diately in front of her, blocking up the narrow pathway. 
Holding out his hand, he said: 

‘‘Let me offer my heartfelt sympathy. Miss Morton, 1 
am truly grieved over your recent loss.” 

Rosalind did not appear to see the proffered hand, and 
for some moments did not raise her eyes, which had fallen 
under his magnetic gaze, then summoning all her pres- 


A BITTER CUP. 


333 


ence of mind, she looked up into his face, and was about 
to ask him to explain his conduct and that of his family’s 
towards her, but, seeing his pallid countenance, the 
words died upon her lips. 

“Good heavens! can this be he?” she asked herself, as 
her eyes scanned the white, haggard face and deep, sunken 
eyes of the man whom she had last seen in the vigor of 
health and strength. Seeing him thus, she forgot her 
words of censure, forgot all his seeming neglect and un- 
kindness towards her, and only remembered that he, too, 
had suffered during the intervening weeks since she had 
seen him. 

“1 did not know that you had been ill,” she said, con- 
trolling the words of anxiety and solicitude that had arisen 
to her lips. “What has been the matter with you?” 

“I have not been ill physically, tho’ I have suffered 
otherwise I must admit; but we will not speak of that, for 
there is something else I wish to say — something I might 
have left unsaid forever had it not have been for this ac- 
cidental meeting, as I had made a solemn vow never to 
seek your presence again.” He paused for a moment, 
as if overcome by emotion, and stood regarding Rosalind 
sternly, then continued: “But since by the merest chance 
we have again met, I cannot resist telling you how you 
have wrecked my hopes of happiness for my whole future 
life, let 'it be long or short.” 

Again he paused, and Rosalind, amazed beyond meas- 
ure at his strange words, asked: 

“What do you mean by speaking in this way to me? 
Your words are as mysterious as your actions towards 


334 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


me have been, therefore it would be best if you would ex- 
plain yourself, since I am at a loss to understand you, 
and equally as much so .your family’s neglect of me in 
my trouble, as I know of nothing I have done to de- 
serve the unkindness I have received at your and their 
hands.” 

Again Gerald, while he looked into her innocent blue 
eyes and listened to her clear, sweet tones, was tempted 
to doubt that she had deceived him, and had he not re- 
membered what his own eyes had seen he would not have 
accused her. 

“Yes, I will explain to you every reason why I have 
remained away from you, and after I have done this if my 
actions have seemed unjust I will beg your forgiveness. 
As you are aware, I am a man of few words, and will say 
but little, tho’ 1 intend to make myself plainly under- 
stood. Do you remember, Kosalind, the first time I ever 
saw you?” 

Rosalind made no reply, but bent her head, and he 
went on: 

“Perhaps not; you were at the piano, and as I rode by 
Morton Place you were singing ‘-Annie Laurie;’ the dogs 
ran out and barked and you looked out of the window. 
For one moment our eyes met. Say, do you remember?” 

Rosalind trembled and changed color rapidly while 
Gerald was speaking, for his eyes were still fixed upon 
her with a stern, reproachful, yet, withal, such a sorrow- 
ful expression in their hazel depths, that she was deeply 
moved. The shock she had received on seeing him look- 
ing so wretchedly ill had completely unnerved her. He 


A BITTER CUP. 


335 


was waiting for her to speak, and at last she commanded 
her voice sufficiently to answer him. 

‘‘Yes, I remember,” she said, falteringly. 

“Well, it is useless to tell you how your face and voice 
impressed me from that moment, and how each day of 
our acquaintance the interest and admiration with which 
you first inspired me increased, until I was forced to ac- 
knowledge within my own heart that I loved you — yes, 
and love you still; but God alone knows how through 
that love I have suffered. Not alone did I love, but I 
worshiped you, believing you to be the noblest and love- 
liest of women; alas! why did you deceive me? Why did 
you allow those beautiful lips to utter a falsehood? ” 

Rosalind heard Gerald’s confession of love with the 
most intense emotion, while the bright color surged into 
her pale face; but when he ended with these strange 
accusations, her heart sank within her, and the beautiful 
roses were instantly supplanted by the snow of lilies. 

“I am more than ever at a loss to comprehend your 
meaning. In what way have I deceived you, and when 
did I tell you a falsehood? Answer me explicitly,” she 
cried, in breathless excitement, her form trembling, her 
luminous eyes swimming in tears. 

“I will answer your questions by putting some to you. 
Did you not tell me that Edgar Wilkerson was nothing to 
you but an acquaintance, and also give me to understand 
that my society was preferable to his?” 

“Yes, I told you this, and I told you truly; Edgar 
Wilkerson is nothing to me, nor has he ever been, save as 
an acquaintance.” 


336 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


A sad little smile rested upon Gerald’s lips on hearing 
this assertion from Rosalind, and his voice sounded 
equally sad when he said: 

“And yet you went to meet him secretly, at the hour 
of ten, the very night you left Niagara; went in Victoria 
Park and met Edgar in Victoria bower. Unless he was 
something to you, why should you have done this? ” 

At these words Rosalind became still more deathly 
white, and so great was her agitation that she seemed un- 
able to stand, for then it was that a great conflict between 
love and what she deemed honor was taking place within 
her breast. She made no reply to this, and leaned heavily 
against a tree for support while these thoughts were con- 
tending within her puzzled brain, and for some moments 
the temptation was strong within her to explain to him 
how matters stood between Millie and Edgar, and how, 
to humor the whim of his petted sister, she had ventured 
out with a message for Edgar at that late hour. Then all 
the pride of the Morton race rose up to her aid, and she 
stood erect before him, magnificent in her regal attitude, 
her lovely face eloquent with noble sentiment. 

“I will not repeat to you, Ger — Mr. Underwood — my 
denial of Edgar Wilkerson being anything to me, for I 
have told you truly; neither will I deny having met him 
in Victoria bower the night I left Niagara, which I ad- 
mit was a most imprudent step for me to take, and suffi- 
cient cause for those who were aware of my going to look 
upon with disapproval. I am not at liberty to explain 
the circumstances of that meeting, and can only rest un- 
der the consequences, which I presume have influenced 


A BITTER CUP. 


337 


the action of all your father’s family towards me. It 
matters not what my regard has been for you, since you 
have lost confidence in me it is best that I have never ex- 
pressed it to you. However, you may find out some day 
that 1 have done you no wrong and have never told you 
a falsehood. Within a few days I will leave Morton 
Place and go where you will never hear of me again; you 
will soon forget me — good-bye.” 

She held out her hand, surprised at her own courage 
and strength of purpose. 

“God grant that I may forget the great sorrow your 
deception has caused me,” Gerald cried, bitterly, turning 
from her abruptly and walking away as fast as his trem- 
bling limbs could carry him in the direction of Ivy Crown. 

He was no sentimentalist, and despised the incipient 
gush which novel writers and love-sick youths employ in 
their declarations of affection; but tho’ his words to Rosa- 
lind had been few and cautious and entirely devoid of art, 
the winged music of Homer could not have been sweeter 
to her ears than his voice, nor could Plato’s perfect 
style, of whom it is said that “if the Muses spoke Greek 
they would have used his language,” have sounded with 
more classic lore than did the simple words he had em- 
ployed while speaking to her, for all unconsciously this 
girl had transferred her worship from the infinite to the 
finite, and now obstacle after obstacle had arisen, placing 
a barrier between herself and the man she worshiped 
higher and just as insurmountable as the pyramids of 
Egypt. All this shocking realism came forcibly to Rosa- 
lind as she stood where Gerald had left her looking after 


22 


338 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


his retreating form until the distance had hidden him 
from view, then all the calmness which she had called to 
her aid in this trying ordeal forsook her; again her face 
became livid as death, and sinking down on the ground 
she uttered a wild, despairing cry, in which her very soul 
seemed to speak, “Oh, Gerald, Gerald, can it be that 
you are lost to me forever?” And as this sad wail smote 
upon the air she crouched still lower to the earth and 
rested her head against the trunk of a fallen tree; and 
while she lay there, so miserable and heartbroken, again 
she tried to pray. But alas! between herself and that 
God in whom her father had trusted so implicitly, who 
had always been such a kind, loving parent from her 
childhood up, there arose another god, and that was Ger- 
ald Underwood. Unhappily for her she did not lose 
consciousness upon realizing these startling truths, but 
with bursting heart and every nerve drawn to its highest 
tension she saw those dark shadows closing in around 
her, and a frenzied desire to get away from everything 
that had been so dear to her such a short time ago took 
possession of her. 

“If I could only die now,” she moaned, burying her 
face in her hands and abandoning herself to her great 
grief. 

How long she lay there she did not know, but suddenly 
she became aware of the approach of some one; the cat- 
like tread of a presence stealthily drawing near fell upon 
her ear in a muffled sound; mechanically raising her head, 
she looked around, when, oh, horrors! she saw standing 
there, within a few feet of her, the fearful mystery of Ivy 
Crown. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


THE FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 

I3EAUT1FUL Ivy Crown lay bathed in the glorious 
September sunshine, while all nature seemed smil- 
ing upon it a divine benediction. It was on the morning 
following the unhappy meeting between Rosalind and 
Gerald, and heedless of what might be befalling the beau- 
tiful niece of the dead woman, preparations for the forth- 
coming wedding went gayly on. Yet in spite of this 
outward appearance of animated interest, a cloud hung 
over the household, not dark and lowering, but so small 
as to be almost imperceptible, still its existence could 
not be ignored, for, true to Marietta’s information, there 
had been bitter words between the father and eldest son 
regarding the bridal tour, which, agreeable to the mod- 
ern society fad, would constitute a trip around the world, 
and Gerald had pointedly refused to make one of the 
party. Never before had the Judge found this adored 
son so resolute in opposing his will, and never before had 
he appeared so ungracious and taciturn towards the in- 
mates of his ancestral home. 

“Gerald has always been the most dutiful of sons, but 
he seems completely changed,” he complained to his 
mother, to whom he confided everything; and she could 
think of nothing that would explain his apparently un- 
dutiful behavior. Only Hetty and Mrs. Porter divined 
the cause of his unnatural actions, neither of whom had 

339 


340 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


mentioned it beyond themselves. But this was not all, 
for besides the fact of Gerald’s gloom and despondency, 
Millie, too, was unusually quiet and dispirited. This was 
more noticeable to the grandmother than any one else. 
She had been denied the privilege of further intercourse 
with Kosalind by her father, to whom Henrietta had 
taken pains to relate the whole of the happenings at Niag- 
ara. Hence, according to the Judge’s high code of moral 
principles, he thought it best to also put a stop to Edgar 
Wilkerson’s visits to Ivy Crown, for he was a man who 
refused to tolerate the society of a fellow-man who would 
in any way compromise the fair name of a woman, espe- 
cially one so young and inexperienced as Kosalind. Ac- 
cordingly he had written Edgar, informing him that un- 
der existing circumstances, of which he had only just 
become cognizant, it was best that the social intercourse 
which had existed between he and the Underwood family 
should at once end. And Edgar, thinking that the Judge 
had by some means found out all his affaire d’amourwith 
Millie, did not ask for an explanation of this sudden ex- 
pulsion from his Eden, but in a state of humiliation and 
• deepest dejection submitted to what had befallen him. 
Thus it was that little by little of what had been said and 
decided upon, Millie had grasped by the fragmentary 
sentences she had chanced to overhear, until she had at 
last fully comprehended the whole. 

The suspicion that had fallen upon Kosalind through her 
own folly, the manner in which she was then regarded, 
hurt the girl’s conscience, and had she not so dreaded her 
father’s anger, she would have confessed the truth, but the 


THEJ FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 341 

selfish desire to shield herself from the consequences of her 
parent's wrath kept her silent. But what grieved her more 
than anything else was the knowledge that Edgar would 
no longer be received at Ivy Crown. And while Millie 
pondered these things she would seek some solitary nook 
and weep the bitterest tears she had ever wept before. 
“The child is ailing,” Grandmother Underwood would 
say, when day after day the girl grew more and more 
fragile, and would leave the table oftentimes without hav- 
ing tasted a morsel of the appetizing food spread out be- 
fore her. Hence, under the impression that Millie’s 
health was suffering, the grandame and father arranged 
to send her abroad with the wedding party. Such was 
the perplexing state of affairs at the fine old country 
place at that time. 

On the morning as described, Henrietta and Mrs. 
Porter were in close consultation with their dressmakers; 
and while these most important items were being dis- 
cussed, Judge Underwood was in the library with some 
early callers; though nearly ten o’clock, it was early for 
this household, so given to the luxurious habit of lying 
in bed till late hours, to have already breakfasted and 
commenced the routine of their everyday life. But this 
was owing to the fact that the bridal preparations were 
somewhat hurried, as the party wished to cross the At- 
lantic while there was smooth sailing waters. The mar- 
riage was to take place on the last day of the present 
month — September. The third week of October the party 
expected to debark upon the shore of old England, where, 
after a few weeks’ sojourn, they would continue their 


342 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


tour through France and Italy, thence to India for the 
purpose of wintering. Early in the spring they would 
visit Persia, and thus merge into the so-termed “Para- 
dice” by the Caspian Sea. Since their tour would extend 
over the period of a year, it was necessary to go fully 
prepared for the changes of climate to which they would 
be subjected, hence their varied preparations. But we 
will leave the ladies to the busy hands of the modiste, 
and have a look into the library to find out what is going 
on there. One of the gentlemen we recognize as young 
Norton, whom we last saw at Niagara; the other is an 
elderly man, not yet known to the reader, who is no other 
than the father of the younger. The two men had 
come to see Judge Underwood on business of the greatest 
importance, which was nothing more or less than to ad- 
vise with him in regard to the necessary legal proceed- 
ings in procuring a divorce. And while the son sat de- 
murely silent, the father attempted to lay the case before 
the Judge. “It was nothing more than I expected,” said 
the old man, in a tone more expressive of the phrase 
“I told you so” than of true fatherly solicitude. “No, 
it was nothing more than any one could have expected of 
that plebeian-born creature, and this is only another evi- 
dence of what eventually results from one making a 
mesalliance; but, to make a long story short, the in- 
famous woman, after succeeding in cajoling my son out 
of five thousand dollars in cool cash, to say nothing of 
the misery she has caused him, has disgraced the whole 
family by eloping with that scalawag of an Englishman, 
calling himself a lord. This happened ten days ago at 


THE FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 


343 


Niagara Falls. And now, Judge, you have the whole 
story.” 

Old man Norton had spoken excitedly, and his words 
did not fail to convey the same feeling to Judge Under- 
wood, who replied by asking in a tone expressive of the 
greatest astonishment, “Is it possible?” “Yes, it is 
only too true, and now,” continued the enraged father, 
rising up and letting his hand fall heavily upon the table 
by which he was standing, “there remains a stern duty 
before me, which is to bring that vile creature and that 
dastardly rascal to justice. Can you give me instructions 
how to go about it? ” 

‘ ‘I wish such a thing was as easily accomplished as talked 
about. Col. Norton, but at this advanced age — of rapid 
transportation and professional adventurers — it would be 
no doubt a useless undertaking to try to trace the mis- 
creants; besides, the great amount of money it would 
cost employing lawyers and detectives to try to find 
them and recover the money the woman obtained so 
fraudulently would be more than the culprits are worth; 
hence my advice to you would be, to wash your hands of 
them, and do not involve your son in a newspaper scan- 
dal by making any publicity of the matter whatever. 
There will be no difficulty in getting a divorce, as there 
will be no defense in the suit which he will file against 
her.” 

This was Judge Underwood’s advice to the Nortons, 
and there could be but little doubt of it being acted upon. 
Then there followed a profound silence — evidently the two 
were pondering the question the Judge had put before 


344 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


them. And while the three men sat there silently medi- 
tative, the door was hurriedly thrown open and Fred 
rushed in. The boy was ghastly white, and without a word 
to prepare the trio for the terrible truth, he exclaimed 
breathlessly: “Papa, you will have to go to the fish pond 
at once. Edgar Wilkerson has been murdered there, 
and they are going to hold an inquest.” 

“Great heavens! what can this mean? Edgar Wilker- 
son murdered, and on my premises! Freddie, my son, is 
there not some mistake?” cried the Judge, staring down 
upon the lad with a strange, uncomprehending look. 

Half fainting, Fred sank into a chair, and the three 
occupants of the library surrounded him. 

“No, papa, there is no mistake,” he replied, then told 
the story, all the details of which were dealt out unspar- 
ingly. How Peter, Miss Yilinda Morton’s old servant, 
had gone out that morning in search of one of his dogs, 
who, upon coming near the inclosure of the fish pond, 
had seen the forih of a man lying there with the bright 
morning sunshine falling upon it; so still did it appear, 
he was moved by curiosity to the spot, when, to his hor- 
ror and amaze, he found it to be the dead body of 
Edgar Wilkerson lying there in a pool of his own blood. 
“I met Peter coming to tell you all about it, papa, and 
he sent me, while he went back to watch the body; he 
wants you to send for the coroner.” 

“Great God!” exclaimed the Judge. 

“Great God!” reiterated the two visitors, simulta- 
neously. Then they took up their hats and hurriedly left 
the house, while dismay and consternation was depicted 


THE FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 


345 


on the countenance of each, Fred following at a safe dis- 
tance behind them. 

An hour later the boy returned to the house to impart 
the startling news to the other members of the family. 
He had sent for them all to come to the library, and all 
but Millie and Gerald had assembled there, the latter 
having taken an early train for Louisville, and the former 
having gone for a walk. 

“It’s just horrible to look at him, all covered with blood, 
and I got sick the minute I saw him,” the boy expostu- 
lated, after having told the trio of what had happened. 

And while the grandmother, Hetty, and Mrs. Porter 
listened with blanched faces to this recital from Fred, 
Millie was returning slowly towards the house. She had 
been thinking of Kosalind and the happy summer just 
past, and sadly comparing those days with the present; it 
hardly seemed possible that a few short weeks could have 
wrought such a change in her feelings and in everything, 
and to think that Rosalind was through the folly of her- 
self, Millie, disgraced! 

While she was thinking thus, involuntarily the words 
of a song she had heard at an opera while in New Or- 
leans the previous winter rose to her lips — 

Every door is closed against her, 

Not a soul for her will mourn ; 

She has fallen by the wayside. 

She ” 

Then suddenly the notes of the song died, for passing 
by a window of the library she had paused for a moment 
on seeing the group assembled there, when her attention 


346 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


was attracted by Fred’s pale face and excited manner of 
speaking. 

“If I had run upon him as old Peter did, and found that 
it was Edgar WilkersOn lying there so still and lifeless, I 
should have fainted dead away, for I know I could not 
have — ” 

The remainder of the sentence was lost in a cry; a very 
wail of despair smote upon the ears of those within the 
library, causing each to shudder with terror, and looking 
through the arched casement they saw a white face with 
staring eyes gazing towards them in hopeless agony; for 
one awful moment it hovered there, the next it had dis- 
appeared from sight, and Millie lay upon the grass amidst 
the blooming flowers only a little crumpled heap. 

“Poor child; the shock of hearing this dreadful news 
was too much for her delicate nerves!” exclaimed the 
frightened grandame, as they lifted the senseless girl and 
bore her to her room, employing every possible artificial 
means to bring her back to consciousness, little dreaming, 
however, how blank the future would be, and how life 
had, on that day, lost all its charms for the spoiled child 
who had never known a sorrow, and whose wishes had 
been as law in the lovely old home. But it is only too 
true that “every heart knoweth its own bitterness,” and 
now it so happened that Millie’s heart was learning the 
sad, sad lesson, that sooner or later must come to all. 
And while the grandmother, Hetty and Mrs. Porter bent 
tenderly over the inanimate form of the heart-broken girl, 
an excited group of men were gathering about the beauti- 
ful fish pond belonging to Ivy Crown, upon the banks of 


THE FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 


34T 


which the tragedy had been enacted. It was the same 
lovely spot where Kosalind, Millie, Gerald and Fred had 
spent such a happy day in the early spring, fishing; but 
no one would have recognized it as such in the dire con- 
fusion that now prevailed. The scene had been one of 
the wildest disorder ever since the news of the murder 
had been circulated throughout the neighborhood; every 
few moments the number of the spectators having in- 
creased, coming by twos and threes, until not less than 
sixty people now stood around the dead body of John 
Wilkerson’s handsome son. For, true to old Peter’s 
words, Edgar Wilkerson lay there in the full glare of the 
morning light, stark and cold; moreover, the weapon that 
had done the fearful deed had been found a short distance 
removed from where lay the body. This was a small, 
gold-hilted stiletto, with a sharp, keen blade of finest 
steel, a beautiful piece of workmanship of Spanish design, 
which dated back to the period when Spain gloried in her 
supremacy of wealth and luxury, and her dark-eyed women 
would carry beneath their black lace mantillas those pretty 
little instruments of death with which to avenge a wrong, 
either of insult or a lover’s unfaithfulness. Engraven upon 
this, in pretty capitals, were the following initials: ‘‘From 
G. U. to K. M.” The dagger was blood-stained even to 
the hilt, and had apparently been thrown where it was 
found after the fatal thrust. It had been passed around 
for examination, from one to another, ever since the find- 
ing of it; but if any of that curious and anxious throng 
had recognized the lettering, no token had been given to 
that effect. Upon the arrival of Judge Underwood on 


% 


348 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


the scene, in like manner the weapon was passed to him. 
^‘From G. U. to K. M.,” he repeated slowlj, and while 
the true significance of those neatly engraven initials 
dawned upon the man, who had stood face to face with 
the enemy upon a gory battlefield without having expe- 
rienced a fear, trembled so violently that he could hardly 
stand; hence, with the sharp bladed instrument clutched 
tightly in his tremulous hand, he sat down, still repeating 
the initials that had caused him such perturbation of feel- 
ing- 

“Those are Gerald’s initials, and the others are Rosa- 
lind Morton’s,” was the immediate conclusion of the wise 
man, and, while this shocking realism came to him, he 
remembered, too, all the scandal that would involve the 
whole affair, and that Gerald’s name and good repute 
would suffer. But, notwithstanding this knowledge, the 
path of duty lay before him and its stern laws must be 
obeyed; hence, there was no time for him to be thinking 
over the result of this development, for it behooved him 
to act at once. 

“As I recognize this as having belonged to my son 
Gerald, I will telegraph to him to come home on the 
noon train. Possibly he can throw some light on this 
wretched affair,” he explained to the coroner, who ar- 
rived about that time. Old man Wilkerson had also 
gone to Louisville on the early morning train, and as yet 
had not been apprised of the terrible catastrophe; but at 
this moment the conversation of the two men was put to 
a sudden terminus by the arrival of Mrs. Wilkerson and 
her two daughters on the scene, who came in the aban- 


THE FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 


349 


don merit of their great grief, which was pitiful to be- 
hold, for while the sisters bemoaned the fate of their 
idolized brother with heartrending cries, the mother, be- 
tween abusive language and hysterical shrieks, became so 
exhausted that she fell into a dead swoon, and while in 
this state of unconsciousness was placed in a carriage and 
driven to her home, the daughters going also. Thus; 
they were removed by main force from tlie harrowing 
spectacle. We will pass as briefly as possible over this 
sad and mysterious happening; sufiice it to say that 
Gerald received the startling telegram at the hotel where 
he had stopped for the day, or perhaps a week, for, though 
he had plead important business as an excuse for going 
to the city that morning, nothing had taken him but the 
weariness and despondency which oppressed him like a 
weight of iron, and made him long to get away from 
scenes and surroundings that served to remind him of the 
idealistic fancies in which he had been indulging during the 
past summer; he felt extremely irritated that he could not 
cast these remembrances from him forever, and think of 
Rosalind as being unworthy of even his pity; but he 
found it impossible to do this, for her image was con- 
stantly before him, and in his troubled slumber the night 
before he had seen the delicate black-robed flgure stand- 
ing near him as she had stood in the woods, and had 
heard her clear, ricli voice saying to him, ‘‘Some day you 
may And out that I have never told you a falsehood.” 

He thought bitterly of how he had allowed himself to- 
become so ensnared, and realized how it had been with 
men who had died for women they had loved. But 


350 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


of all the wounds he had received, none were half so 
painful as the humiliating sense that he held no place in 
this woman’s heart, and that she only encouraged him in 
the belief that she was not indifferent to him for the sake 
of piquing Edgar Wilkerson or gratifying her own vanity. 

While he recalled this his veins thrilled and his proud 
blood burned — to think he had been made a toy to be 
played with at will by the one woman who in her seeming 
innocence and purity had impressed him as being angelic. 
With all these contending emotions running riot in his 
brain Gerald had left Ivy Crown that morning, little 
dreaming, however, that he would be summoned home to 
be present at the inquest of his supposed rival. There 
were no details, only the bare fact that “Edgar Wilker- 
son had been murdered; come at once, you are needed at 
the inquest.” This had been signed by his father. 

This news gave him a shock — a chilliness; a vague ter- 
ror took possession of him as the sense of what he read 
gradually grew more and more distinct. A sudden 
remembrance of the bitterness he had been cherishing in 
his heart towards Edgar since their last evening at 
Niagara smote him, and a sorrow quite sincere moved 
him compassionately. Then, too, a painful duty awaited 
him, for in five minutes time after receiving the message 
there came another telling him to find the father of the 
dead man and impart to him the sad tidings. He could 
not tell him outright of what had befallen his son, but he 
endeavored to prepare him for the terrible trouble that 
awaited him by telling him that some serious accident had 
happened to Edgar and that both he and himself had been 
telegraphed for. 


THE FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 


351 


Judge Underwood was at the station to meet the two, 
and broke the news to the father as gently as possible as 
they proceeded to the scene of the fearful tragedy. 

It would be useless to attempt to describe the grief of 
the doting parent upon hearing the details of this untimely 
death. 

‘‘Don’t tell me that my Edgar’s ded, Jedge, hit’s more 
than I ken bare!” he cried, in a tone of consternation, 
then broke into a storm of grief. 

It was a sad sight that met the gaze of Gerald and the 
stricken father, and one that would have caused the hard- 
est heart to throb with pity, while their eyes gazed upon 
the handsome, boyish face, with its wide open, sightless 
eyes, to which the noonday sun, piercing through the 
dark branches of the old oaks, lent a mocking brilliancy. 
The clustering locks of dark hair were matted with blood, 
and the red stains were also upon his hands and face. 
There was every evidence of a death struggle, for his 
clothes, too, were covered with the same crimson gore. 

Judge Underwood did not speak of the blood-stained 
dagger to Gerald, for he did not want him to be prepared 
for this development. Knowing the chivalrous nature of 
his son, he feared that, in this case, should he have time 
to think, he would invent some means of protecting Rosa- 
lind through sacrificing himself; hence, when upon their 
arrival at the fish pond, where the preliminaries were 
being arranged preparatory to holding the inquest, the 
stiletto was placed in the hands of the young man, and the 
question, “if he could identify it,” was put to him; had 
lie been asked to sign his own death warrant he could 


352 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


have done so more willingly and readily than to have 
told what he knew of the fateful little instrument. With 
his brain whirling as of one in delirium, he stood there 
holding the finely-wrought weapon in his hand, and for 
some time seeming forgetful of the fact that a matter of 
great importance was awaiting his reply. How intensely 
still everything had grown as he stood there pondering 
within his own mind the question; and the answer, what 
should it be? Over nature, too, had fallen that solemn 
hush, for not a branch quivered, no bird’s happy voice 
broke upon the impressive silence. The water lilies re- 
clined upon the surface of the pond motionless as death; 
they, too, seemed listening for him to speak the words 
that would link the name of the beautiful Rosalind with 
that of a murderess. ‘‘No, he could not do this; rather 
would he suffer any penalty himself than to be instru- 
mental in consigning this girl to such a fate,” he told 
himself, as he gazed dumbly about him. As one in a 
dream he walked a few paces, then paused suddenly, for 
he stood directly over the body of Edgar Wilkerson. 
Again he viewed the sickening spectacle, and again he 
shuddered with horror; then, mastering his great emotion, 
he said: 

“I am under oath, gentlemen, and am therefore obliged 
to confess that this weapon was formerly mine; further- 
more upon the subject I refuse to speak, hence you may 
consider me your prisoner.” 

At this Judge Underwood was furious, and after giv- 
ing vent to his indignation in the strongest terms that 
could have possibly been employed, he addressed himself 
to the jury: 


THE FISH-POND TRAGEDY. 


353 


“For heaven’s sake, gentlemen, do not listen to such 
wild and quixotic ideas as Gerald has expressed, for in 
this case he has allowed his gallantry to rule his better 
judgment and high sense of justice. The present owner 
of the instrument of death is Rosalind JVIorton!” 

Gerald started towards his father menancingly as if he 
would stay the words on his lips, but before he could 
reach him the fatal words were uttered: 

“I could have never believed you guilty of such an 
act, father, and were it any one but you I would call it 
cowardly; but I cannot so far forget myself. You should 
remember, however, that I am no longer a minor, and as 
a number of years have passed since I reached my major- 
ity, I am fully capable of attending to my own affairs.” 

Then, turning to the jurymen, he repeated. 

“Gentlemen, I insist upon being made responsible for 
the deed this dagger has done — at least until the true 
murderer has been apprehended.” 

“He is mad; do not heed his wild words, but do your 
duty, gentlemen; the mandates of the law must be obeyed!” 
cried the Judge, excitedly, regardless of the fact that the 
court had been called to order. 

At last quiet was restored, and the men of law pro- 
ceeded to business. It was almost three o’clock when the 
inquest was over, the jury having rendered a verdict that 
Edgar Wilkerson had come to his death by the wound of 
a knife, and though the murder was still wrapt in mystery, 
the circumstance of Rosalind Morton being the present 
owner of the instrument of death pointed to her as the 
assassin. 


23 


CHAPTER XXII. 


ACCUSED. 

^^HEN Rosalind returned to consciousness, after her 
encounter with the fearful mystery in the woods, 
she found Peter and Marietta engaged in applying restora- 
tives while she lay on a couch in the familiar room which 
had been her aunt Yilinda’s. 

‘‘Where am I, and what has happened ? ” she asked, 
looking nervously from one to the other of the faithful 
old servants. 

“Rite here wid yore old Marietta, honey; and now, 
since de Lord hab bin so good tu fotch yu back tu dis 
wold whin we thout you wus clean ded, yu mus let Peter 
go fetch yu a cup ob tea, an den yu drink hit while it am 
biling hot.” 

Rosalind did not reply, and when Peter brought the 
tea, and Marietta held a saucerful to her lips, tried to 
swallow a few mouthfuls, still looking strange and be- 
wildered. 

“Take it away,” she cried, pushing the steaming bev- 
erage from her, and sitting up. “I do not want to eat or 
drink anything ever again. Why do you bring me food 
or drink to sustain life when I only want to die and be at 
rest ? ” 

The servants withdrew to another part of the room and 
seemed at a loss what to do or say to console their young 
mistress. 


354 


ACCUSED. 


355 


“Alone and forsaken; what a miserable fate,” she 
murmured, almost inaudibly. 

“What du yu suppose happened tu her in de woods, 
Peter, dat made her faint ? ” asked Marietta soto-voce, 
while the two listened to her sad lamentations. 

“Hits my pinion dat dem folks at Ivy Crown had som- 
thin to do wid hit, but de Lord only knows, an we colored 
folks habent any bizness trying fo to fine out; still hit am 
sorrowfying to us to see de poor young Missee neglected 
like and scorned down by de rich folks. Hits a wonder 
dat ole Missee ken res esy in her grave under sich russi- 
fying circumstances.” 

“Dont, Peter, dont tempt de ded out ob der grabes, ” 
said Marietta, in alarm, “fur hits mighty well dat ole 
Miss am spared de knowledge ob what’s gying on in dis 
wiked worl, an I dont want her tu hab tu riz out ob dat 
grabe till the resumrection. ” 

While this little side talk was going on between Peter 
and Marietta, Kosalind was, one by one, recalling the 
events of the afternoon, and as they fioated back to her, 
at first vaguely, then clearly and distinctly defined them- 
selves, the true realism of what had occurred came to her 
with overpowering force and meaning; Gerald’s white, 
haggard face and sorrowful eyes arose before her, while 
again she heard his grave, sweet tones falling upon her 
ear in words of accusation, and she remembered, too, how 
she had sunk down and cried out in the bitterness of her 
spirit, and in answer to that cry of an overladen soul 
there had come the fearful bete noire — the horrible thing 
that seemed to have made of her a prey upon which to 


356 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


feast its cavernous eyes and cast the spell of its ominous 
presence; and again the puzzling question as to what it 
could be was put before her. She had heard Irish 
legends of the dreaded Bashee, which always appeared to 
warn them of danger and death, and she asked herself 
if this hideous creature had been sent to warn her of the 
new sorrows and misfortunes that had and were still to 
befall her? This was as far back as she could remem- 
ber. She did not know how she had ever reached Mor- 
ton Place, for the last of her recollection the uncanny 
mystery was slowly but surely approaching her. 

Beckoning Marietta to her, she asked, “Who found 
me in the woods and brought me home?” 

“Bless yore soul. Miss Rosalin, it ware me an Peter; 
nobody else. You see hit ware way arter dark an you 
hadn’t cum horn frum yer walk, an I says to Peter dat 
him an me had better go fine yo, an so we sot out in our 
serch; an fore de Lord, chile, we ware skeered haf tu def 
when we got in dem hanted woods, fur we herd dat dred- 
ful cry, twix a panter an a humen bein, an we made shore 
de ting had ete you alive or clawd out yore ise wid dem 
long nails. It am a ferful ting. Miss Rosalin, fur sich a 
cus to hang ober eny neighborhood, an I want you to tell 
yore ole Marietta hif dat skeery ting took arter yo in dem 
dark woods?” 

“I saw something. Marietta, something horrible to look 
upon, but when it appeared to me I believe I screamed, 
and then I lost consciousness. But tell me. Marietta, 
have you ever seen it, and do you know what it is?” 

“No, Miss Rosalin, tank de Lord, I neber hab sot ise 


ACCUSED. 


357 


on hit mysef, but I’se hern hit hollar, an dat was enuff 
fur me. But Peter has seed hit mor dan once, and he’ll 
tell yo all about hit. Com ober here, Peter, an tell Miss 
Kosalin bout dat ugly creeter dat gose round skeerifying 
de people out ob dar wits in dis locinity.” 

At this Peter came forward, holding his hat in his 
hand in his usual deferential manner, and said: 

‘‘Well, Miss Rosalin, sence yo hab seen dis muraculus 
gobhoblin, hit am usless fur me tu attemp a perscription, 
so I will only tell yo how long hit has been disinfectin dis 
naborhood, fur anybody dat has eber seed it and am 
acquanted wid hits noculating phisologamy dont want 
tu hab eny more prescriptions ob hit. I am nuffin but a 
ole cullerd man. Miss Rosalin, but I dont make a practice 
ob tellin lies, an hits de God’s truf dat dat ting hab ben 
disinfectin dis naborhood fur about twenty yers, and no- 
body can fine out what hit am and who hit belongs tu. Ob 
course. Miss Rosalin, hit dont become me to hab anyting tu 
say bout white foks affars, but hit am rashionable to sup- 
pos dat 1 ken spress my opinion to my ole Misses’ nece, and 
I tell you dat dar’s more knowin about dat craibolical obnus- 
fatus at Hivy Croun den eny ob dera will remit; but hit 
will all come out some day, fur de Bible says dat ebery 
ting hidden shall be repeled, and dat am bound to repeal 
hitself some time.” 

“I am much obliged. Uncle Peter, and now I believe I 
will go to my room,” Rosalind said, thus kindly dismiss- 
ing the old man. Marietta accompanied her and begged 
that she might assist her in undressings for the sympa 
thizing old negress wanted to linger as long as possible 


358 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


near the lonely girl on this night in particular, for there 
was an expression on her face that she could not under- 
stand, and some way she feared to trust her alone. 

“No, you need not remain up any longer on my ac- 
count, Marietta; I have some letters to write, and will sit 
up for some time yet,” she said upon being thus impor- 
tuned by the servant to let her stay with her awhile. 

After Marietta had withdrawn, Kosalind again gave 
herself up to thinking over the past miserable days, and, 
feeling assured that all hope for the future was forever 
extinguished, she tried to decide upon some immediate 
course to pursue. Full well she knew she could not re- 
main there, for life at Morton Place had grown intoler- 
able since she had heard from Gerald’s own lips how she 
was regarded by himself and family. And it was all 
through her friendship for Millie that she had placed her- 
self in a position which would no longer warrant her in 
expecting friendship and sympathy from those proud 
people; and were Millie even to confess that she had 
brought about this scandal in which Rosalind’s name was 
so deeply involved, it was doubtful if they would be more 
tolerant of her than they now were, as they would blame 
her for aiding Mill-ie in taking such a step. And while 
those thoughts filled her brain, she sat until far into the 
night telling herself sadly that nothing else remained for 
her but go away where she would never hear of Gerald 
again, and try and forget the happy months that had 
drifted so serenely away since she had known him. Such 
joys had been too infinite to be lasting, and were not for 
her. No! she had held the golden bowl for the last time 


ACCUSED. 


359 


to her lips and drank of the luscious draughts. Now, alas! 
the bowl was broken and the fragments lay scattered 
about her; happiness had crowned her life for a little 
while, and then, with stealthy steps, had stolen away. 
Knowing that it was impossible to sleep, Kosalind re- 
mained up the greatest portion of the night, and, with a 
view of whiling away the hours, commenced the task of 
packing her trunk, having fully made up her mind to 
leave Morton Place the following day. While thus en- 
gaged, again the past happy months were brought vividly 
before her; for, while one by one of the pretty dresses — 
with which her Aunt Yilinda had so generously supplied 
her — were taken down and folded, each one brought about 
memories of Niagara and Gerald. The bunch of flowers 
she had worn upon the last evening of her stay at the 
falls still nestled among the laces of her dress; Gerald had 
sent them to her, and how happy she had been when she 
fastened them there. They had been so fresh and beau- 
tiful then, but now were dry and withered. 

‘^Like my hopes, they, too, are faded and dead,” she 
thought, while she pressed these mementos of the sweet 
past to her lips and watered them with her tears. 

She then gathered together everything, from the tiniest 
bit of paper to the lovely little relics that Gerald had 
purchased from the Indian squaws, whom they had en- 
countered in Prospect Park, whither they had come to 
sell their wares, and as this task was in process her hands 
had touched each little token reverently. Only one thing 
was missing to make the number of souvenirs complete, 
and that was not to be found; and while she searched 


360 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


diligently for it, she recalled the evening that Gerald had 
presented it to her and also the history he had given her 
of it. It was a small instrument that had been found by 
him in a curiosity store in the city of Mexico and dated 
back a century or more. Tradition said that this sti- 
letto had belonged to a Spanish countess, who had, in 
a fit of jealous rage, slain her lover with it. While Ros- 
alind recalled the little story, memory carried her back 
to that happy afternoon. She was at Ivy Crown, the day 
was bright and glorious, and everything was as merry as 
marriage bells. It was only a few days prior to their 
going to Niagara, and they were all busy making prepa- 
rations for the fete, when it so happened that Gerald and 
herself were alone together, and he had said to her: 

‘‘Since you are a lover of antiquity. Miss Morton, this 
relic may be of interest to you, but do not let it serve you 
the same purpose that it did its former owner,” he had 
added, laughingly, after reciting to her its history. 

But not for long did this sweet forgetfulness linger 
with Rosalind, for too closely were those events inter- 
woven with the present, hence only sufficed to contrast 
more painfully with what had since fallen upon her. 
Then a feeling of still more utter desolation took posses- 
sion of her, and caused her to bitterly lament over the 
hard fate that had overtaken her. 

“After all, what does it matter whether I find the gift 
or not ? The past is only a heap of withered roses that 
lie dead at my feet; nothing could bring them back to 
life again, for all their beauty and fragrance have been 
crushed out of them. Then why should my heart cling 


ACCUSED. 


361 


to these sweet remembrances since they have all been re- 
placed by stern and terrible realities which confront me 
on every side ? If I could only pray.” 

Kneeling down beside her bed, she stretched out her 
arms towards her father’s portrait imploringly, and again 
tried to approach the throne of grace; but, alas! no 
words came to the white lips, which seemed as powerless 
of speech as if she were dumb; then she buried her face 
in the pillows and wept herself to sleep. When daylight 
streamed into the open casement it fell upon the pallid 
face of the lonely girl, asleep with her head resting 
against her bed. At the first gray streaks of the dawn 
her weary eyes had closed through sheer exhaustion. 

It was after eight o’clock when Marietta went up to 
call her young mistress to breakfast and found her thus. 
The beautiful brown hair had become unbound and fell 
about her face like a halo of glory; one pretty white hand 
still lay caressingly upon the little mementos beside her, 
and the other rested beneath her cheek; her face was 
almost as colorless as the pillows upon which it reposed. 

“Pore chile; pore little forsaken lamb! What a pity 
de good Old aunt had tu lebe her in dis miserable wold,” 
mused the negress while she gazed down, sorrowfully, 
upon the white, sad face; then gently smoothing the 
golden brown tresses, she called: “Miss Rosaiin, Miss 
Rosalin; wake up, honey, an let yore ole Marietta bring 
yu a bite ob breakfas, an den put yu tu bed nicely. Com, 
precios lamb, git up; dis floor am too hard for yore tender 
flesh.” 

Partly raising herself, Rosalind asked: “Why did you 


362 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


waken me, Marietta? I was dreaming of papa; we were 
at the parsonage together, and I was so happy.” 

If Gerald could have only heard those softly spoken 
words, and looked into her innocent eyes, he could have 
never again doubted her purity, no matter what others 
would choose to think of her. But at that moment he 
was cursing his own folly and calling himself a weak 
fool for having again believed in a woman, and while the 
train which was bearing him to Louisville moved swiftly 
onward his thoughts kept pace with its rapid motion. 
But we will return to Kosalind. 

“You are right for waking me. Marietta,” she said, as 
her eyes fell upon the little trinkets on the floor beside 
her. “I should have been up an hour ago.” 

She remembered how she had resolved upon this day 
to leave Morton Place forever, and now the sun was high 
in the heavens, and she had slept on, heedless of the 
time that was passing. 

“I cannot start before noon now, for I must prepare 
Marietta and Peter for my going,” she soliloquized, as 
she went down to the diningroom. When she had eaten 
sparingly of the good breakfast the servant had placed 
before her, she said: 

“I am grieved to leave you and Peter, Marietta, for 
you are in truth the only ones in the world who care for 
me; but I have fully determined on going away to-day, 
and thought I might as well tell you now, but I want you 
to remember that I shall always think of you and Peter 
with the greatest gratitude, and will write and let you 
know how I am getting along.” 


ACCUSED. 


363 


Rosalind tried to speak cheerfully, but in spite of her 
effort to do so her voice faltered, and by the time she had 
finished the hot tears were coursing down her cheeks. 

Marietta could not restrain her grief upon hearing this, 
and, sitting down near Rosalind, she raised her apron to 
her eyes and cried aloud, while every now and then, be- 
tween deep sobs and sorrowful wails, she would reiterate 
Rosalind’s words, “Guine away — Miss Rosalin’s guine 
away! a-n I a-n P-e-t-e-r b-e 1 e-f a-1 a-l-o-n.” Then, 
falling on her knees beside Rosalind, she implored that 
she might go with her. “I’d work fur yo. Miss Rosalin, 
an not be on yore hands if yo will let me go,” she said 
beseechingly. 

And Rosalind, deeply moved by this devotion, at last 
found words to reply. 

“I would gladly take you and Peter with me. Marietta, 
but it would not be right to leave the old place without 
notifying the present owners of it; and Peter has, to my 
own knowledge, obligated himself to remain here for the 
rest of the year.” 

Thus reasoning, Rosalind soon convinced Marietta how 
impossible it was for she and Peter to go away at that 
time. 

At half-past three a train would be going south, and at 
that hour Rosalind would leave Morton Place. All the 
forenoon she busied .herself in getting everything in 
readiness, until the time had slipped away much quicker 
than she had anticipated, and it was three o’clock, but 
still Peter had not come to convey herself and baggage 
to the depot. She had dressed for her journey, and was 


364 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


waiting impatiently for the old negro’s return, but it 
seemed that, after all, she would not get off at the time 
appointed. 

Early that morning Peter had gone out to look for one 
of his dogs, and up to this hour had not returned. 

“I’se mighty onesy bout him. Miss Ppsalin; he didn’t 
ete noofin hardly fore he went, an sed he’d be back tu 
breakfast, explained Marietta, as the two stood watching 
for his return. 

Half- past three, and still there were no signs of his 
coming; and Rosalind knowing that the time was up (as 
the train was then due at Livingston station) laid aside her 
hat and sat down by one of the parlor windows. 

will go on the night train,” she thought, while her 
eyes wandered over those woods where she had last seen 
Gerald. “I am taking another look, which will be the 
last one I hope,” she murmured, as she gazed out again 
upon that spot, so fraught with sweet and bitter remem- 
brances. Again she recalled the morning Millie, Gerald 
and she had traversed the path that led through those 
woods on their way to the fish pond — the blue of the sky, 
the laughing, dancing sunlight that seemed to reflect their 
joyous spirits, Gerald’s grave, sweet smiles and Millie’s 
laughing face — all that had happened on that day floated 
back to her mental vision, and for a little while she was 
forgetful of her sorrow. Then the whole scene faded, the 
golden flecks of sunlight vanished, and the vague mist in 
the distance seemed to concentrate and descend about her 
like an impenetrable shroud, shuddering as if a chill had 
seized her, she arose from the window and went over to 


ACCUSED. 


365 


where sat Polly’s cage. “Poor Polly,” she said, sooth- 
ingly, while she caressed the bird and endeavored to 
check her shrill laughter. But at this moment she was 
startled by hearing Marietta’s voice in the hall. She was 
speaking excitedly; then the door was thrown open, and 
two men entered, followed by both the old servants. 

“I tole dem not to com in till I renounced dem, Miss 
Rosalin, but dey wodn’t listen to me,” proclaimed Mari- 
etta, indignantly. 

Rosalind’s eyes raised swiftly upon hearing this^ and 
became fixed interrogatively upon the intruders; but be- 
fore she could utter a word one of the men approached 
her and asked: 

“Is this Miss Morton?” 

The girl bowed gravely, and the stranger continued: 

“As we have some important business to transact with 
you, it would be well if you would dismiss your serv- 
ants.” 

Again Rosalind bowed, and turning to Marietta, said: 

“You can go now and give Uncle Peter his dinner; if 
I need you I will call you.” 

As soon as the two were fairly out of the room the 
stranger drew from his coat pocket a small parcel, and 
unfolding it, held it towards Rosalind. 

“Can you identify this?” he asked, a little contemptuous 
smile playing about his cynical lips. 

“Oh, yes! it is mine; I could not find it anywhere,” she 
replied, almost joyfully, taking the little instrument from 
the man’s hand; then seeing the blood stains upon it, she 
grew pale as death, while a sickening faintness took pos- 
session of her. 


366 


HOSALIND MORTON. 


‘‘I am an officer of the law, Miss Morton, and have a 
warrant for the arrest of the owner of this stiletto on the 
charge of the murder of Edgar Wilkerson.” 

While this awful denouncement fell upon Kosalind’s 
ears she stood as one nailed to the floor, her eyes fixed 
upon the sheriff with a look of horrified perplexity, as if 
unable to comprehend the full meaning of his words. 
Then as the realism of it all dawned slowly to her, whiter 
and whiter grew her face, and motionless as death became 
her form, which, had it been carved from Parian marble, 
could not have appeared more statuesque. Edgar Wil- 
kerson had been murdered — this much she understood; 
furthermore what was it? 

The shock seemed to have paralyzed her every sense, 
or else she could find no words to express the dismay and 
horror that was contending within her breast. 

‘‘Accused of a crime, and the victim, too, of circum- 
stantial evidence, that seemed to have woven about her 
an intangible net, while all the web of inexplicable 
fatality had fallen about her, drawing her down to the 
very depths of humiliation and despair.” 

All these thoughts rushed madly through her brain 
while standing there face to face with the stern officer of 
the law\ And she asked herself: “What were all the 
rest of her sorrows compared to this ?” 

Only a few minutes had passed since the two officers 
had found their way into Kosalind’s presence, yet it 
seemed hours, yea, years, to her. 

Then again footsteps were heard coming in that direc- 
tion; again the door was thrown open unceremoniously. 


ACCUSED. 


367 


and John Wilkerson rushed into their midst, his face 
haggard and aged, his mouth twitching convulsively. 
Without a word of preface he cried out: “Isay, officer, 
don’t arrest that gal; 1 won’t let hit be done if hit costs 
me my farm, and 1 com here to put a stop to hit, for I 
tell you that gal never had anything more to do with the 
murder of my Edgar than a new-born baby. Make out 
your bond, sir, and I’ll sign hit, no matter how much hit 
calls fur.” 

Rosalind heard and understood the words of this honest 
man, and for an instant her heart thrilled with gratitude — 
he, the father of the murdered young man, ignorant tho' 
he was, did not believe her guilty. This much was clear 
to her. Then a misty cloud floated before her, and she 
seemed to be sinking through immeasurable darkness and 
space. Suddenly a shriek rang through the house, fol- 
lowed by another and another, and then the girl fell to 
the floor in a dead faint. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE SHADOWS OF THE DARK VALLEY. 

<<OOORlamb, poor lamb; at las dej hav crusefied her 

r tu death,” cried Marietta, who was stationed just 
outside of the door, and had ran in the moment she heard 
Rosalind fall. And, indeed, nothing could have ap- 
peared more death-like than the swoon in which she lay, 
her fair hands clasped over her breast as if with her last 
breath she had supplicated at the throne of mercy and 
peace. But youth and healthful vitality prevailed, and 
she at last awoke to life, but not to consciousness; 
happily for her, she was delirious. After that there were 
weeks that all the future were to her a blank, for she lay 
ill unto death, burning with fever, talking rapidly, wildly 
and incoherently at times, and again babbling in soft 
childish prattle, her fevered imagination taking her back 
to her childhood home, and laughing joyously while she 
frolicked gleefully with her father and reveled in their 
many sports. 

At these times her face would light up with an expres- 
sion of perfect happiness, and the sweet innocent eyes 
would sparkle with merriment. But again the whole 
scene would seem to undergo a rapid transformation, for 
into those lovely orbs would come a wild, frightened ex- 
pression, and from the parched lips the most frenzied 
cries would issue, which would die down into low sobbing 
sounds pitiful to hear. And at these partly lucid mo- 

368 


THE SHADOWS OF THE DARK VALLEY. 369 

ments great scalding tears would roll down her fever- 
flushed cheeks, and she would call in heartbroken tones to 
her dead father, begging and pleading that he would come 
back to her, if only for a little while, and let her lay her 
aching head upon his breast. 

For two weeks she raved continuously, the fever not 
abating in the least, and while the death angel hovered 
again over the deserted old home of Morton Place, old 
lady Underwood, in the sympathy of her kind motherly 
heart, watched almost nightly beside the forsaken orphan, 
oftentimes pressing her cool hands to the fevered brow, 
thus soothing her frantic raving into quiet by her gentle 
touch. Gerald would accompany his grandmother, and 
while he waited within the next room and listened to her, 
his heart ached as it had never ached before, and he 
realized more fully than ever how dear she was to him, 
and that he would have freely given up his own life to 
have saved her from the pangs she had suffered. 

Every one thought she would die, the doctor included; 
but her hitherto superb unbroken health saved her life, 
and she was brought back from the very grave. Slowly 
the fever subsided and consciousness returned, and pale 
and spent, weak as an infant, white as a snowflake, and 
etherial as a dream, she looked out one bright September 
day and saw the woods all flooded with sunshine, and 
heard the birds singing as blithely as if pain and sorrow 
had never visited the earth. 

They would not let her talk, and the doctor said she 
must sleep, and administered a soothing potion imme- 
diately, upon finding her conscious, which brought about a 


24 


370 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


peaceful, restful slumber, and while the gentle breezes of 
Somnus waft her into happy forgetfulness, we will leave 
her and go back to other scenes, and recount some im- 
portant happenings since the day of the fish-pond 
tragedy. 

Not alone had Morton Place been the scene of sorrow 
and suffering in the past weeks, for at the Wilkerson 
home there was gloom and wretchedness that bordered on 
despair. Edgar had been their pride and joy, and they 
all bemoaned his loss piteously. And while this grief 
reigned over John Wilkerson’s household the cloud that 
for weeks had hung over Ivy Crown had deepened and 
darkened and grown into immense proportions, for Mil- 
lie, the light and joy of that grand old home, was still 
ailing. From the day that Edgar Wilkerson had been 
found murdered she had been as one in a dream, wander- 
ing about the house in a listless, aimless way, or seeking 
some lonely spot to give vent to her pent-up sorrow in 
miserable, hopeless weeping. Never had her laugh 
sounded through the house nor a song burst from her lips 
since that terrible day. The family had all become 
alarmed, and thereby called in their physician, who had 
pronounced her case nothing more serious than nervous 
debility, brought on from the shock she had doubtless sus- 
tained by the sad happenings of the neighborhood, at the 
same time prescribing a good tonic and change of scene as 
the most beneficial remedy to restore her to her normal 
state. Hence, in consideration of this, they all looked 
forward to her forthcoming sea voyage with great hope- 
fulness for her recovery. Gerald, too, had become more 


THE SHADOWS OP THE DARK VALLEY. 


371 


and more depressed, and had spent all his time in trying 
to find some new clue to the mysterious murder. Upon 
arriving on the scene the day the inquest was held he had 
immediately telegraphed back to Louisville, asking for 
the services of their best detective; accordingly, late in 
the afternoon of the same day one had come down. The 
inquest was over and the body had been removed, and 
only he and Gerald remained where the deed had been 
perpetrated. After getting a detailed account of the 
whole proceedings the detective wandered up and down 
the banks of the water, and Gerald saw him bend forward 
and pick up something, and after carefully examining it 
put it in his pocket; then turning to him, he said: 

“I have found a clue which I and pretty certain will 
serve me in apprehending the true murderer.” 

“I trust you may be successful in your attempt; re- 
member, if you are, I will add several hundred to the 
handsome sum John Wilkerson will give you.” 

Then the detective questioned him concerning Rosa- 
lind. 

“Was Miss Morton, the supposed murderess, a country 
girl who dressed plainly, or was she refined and lady- 
like in appearance,” he asked, and Gerald replied: 

“Miss Morton is apparently one of the most refined 
young ladies I have ever met, unexceptionable in both 
dress and manner.” 

“Then you can rest assured suspicion has fallen on the 
wrong party,” said the detective, without further explana- 
tion. 

It had been utterly impossible for Gerald to analyze his 


372 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


own belief as regarded the murder of Edgar Wilkerson, 
for tho’ the surrounding circumstances were strong proof 
of Kosalind’s guilt, he could not bring himself to look 
upon her as a murderess. No, while she had even acted 
a deceptive part towards himself and her actions had be- 
spoken intrigue of the deepest dje, he could not believe 
altogether in her unworthiness, and in his heart of hearts 
he still enshrined her in her vestal robes of purity and 
chastity, and believed that within the temple of her soul 
the altar fire still burned brightly. He had never fully 
realized the unlimitable extent of his feelings for this 
seemingly spirituelle girl until he bore witness to the 
multiplicity of misfortunes that beset her on every side; 
and now he knew that he not only loved her with all the 
strength of his manhood, but with the platonic and spir- 
itualized affection which Petrarch had bestowed upon his 
Laura. 

And while these contending emotions had filled the 
mind of Gerald and the death angel spread his wings over 
the couch of Posalind, exaggerated rumors fiew from 
house to house of how Edgar Wilkerson had been her 
lover; how their midnight meetings had been held sub- 
rosa, both at Niagara and in the neighborhood where the 
tragedy had occurred, and, lastly, how she had met him 
at the fish pond, and, in a fit of jealous rage, thrust the 
little dagger through his heart. For once the gossips of 
that locality had enough to talk about; nor did they wait 
to analyze the truth of these accounts; instead, they lis- 
tened hungrily, eagerly devouring every morsel of scandal 
which added to the sensation, or fuel to the fiames that 


THE SHADOWS OF THE DARK VALLEY. 373 

were all consuming in their intensity of heat. And not 
only were these rumors listened to and repeated, but they 
were prefaced and stereotyped until the circumstances 
pertaining to the murder of Edgar Wilkerson would have 
filled columns of newspapers; and had it not been for 
Gerald’s timely interference in suppressing such, doubt- 
less the name of the beautiful orphan would have been 
broadcast throughout the land; for, of all things, there is 
nothing more pitiless than the handling of a fair woman’s 
name. Envy and malice walk hand in hand and trample 
down with merciless vindictiveness those whom they would 
crush with no more conscientious scruples as regards the 
consequences of their work than a mower who sweeps his 
scythe over a bed of fresh, sweet violets. Gerald knew 
all this, and heard with withering scorn all these un- 
founded and imaginary reports; for he was well enough 
acquainted with the world to know that Rosalind’s beauty 
augmented condemnation — especially with her own sex — 
and his reverence and honor knew no bounds when his 
grandmother refused to believe her guilty, and spent so 
much of her time nursing her back to life. Truly, she 
was a noble old woman, for her heart turned to the suf- 
ferer and her hani^} administered true charity. Since she 
had sat at Rosalind’s bedside and heard her sorrowful 
ravings, all her womanly tenderness had been touched, 
for the pure, sweet nature of the girl had revealed itself 
clearly to her, while she wandered back to childhood and 
held converse with her sainted father; and it mattered 
not what evidence there were against her, henceforth she 
would believe her innocent. Nor had Gerald ever so 


374 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


much honored and liked John Wilkerson as he had done 
since he acted such a noble part towards Eosalind, and 
he felt ashamed when he compared his father’s manner 
of treating the matter with that of the ignorant old 
farmer. It had been a surprise to everybody to see how 
quickly the father of the dead man had defended the name 
of Eosalind, and how he had ridden rapidly to Morton 
Place, notwithstanding his terrible grief, to prevent her 
from being arrested. 

“Hit’s an outrage to think of such a thing as charging 
that angel of a gal with a crime, and hit shan’t be did, 
gentlemen, if hit costs me my farm to put a stop to hit,” 
he had proclaimed, excitedly, as he mounted his horse 
and followed the officers. Accordingly, a bond had been 
signed by him for her appearance before the court two 
weeks subsequent to the murder; but at the time ap- 
pointed, Eosalind lay in the valley and shadow of death, 
hence there had been no trial; and since John Wilkerson 
refused to prosecute her, and the State had not, it was 
thought that nothing would come of it after all — nothing 
but a disgraced name and a broken heart. But such as 
that was not weighed in the balance, and by the world 
considered as naught. 

Meanwhile, the time of Henrietta’s wedding was at 
hand, for, in spite of all these sad happenings, prepara- 
tions for this occasion had gone on unceasingly, and the 
evening upon which the nuptials were to be celebrated 
had arrived. The large handsome rooms were flooded 
with light, and flowers in all their luxuriant beauty were 
blooming in every available nook and corner. The guests 


THE SHADOWS OF THE DARK VALLEY. 375 

were not very numerous, eomposing only the most inti- 
mate friends of the family, Henrietta having changed her 
mind as regarded the grand wedding she had at first 
planned and the many cards of invitation she had in- 
tended to send out, Millie’s failing health had caused the 
number to be limited to a great extent, and the marriage 
was to be comparatively a quiet one. Upon that evening, 
outwardly, everything presented that even repose charac- 
teristic of well-ordered households, but all were more or 
less perturbed in spirit, for Millie had refused to be pres- 
ent at the ceremony. 

“I can not go down, Hetty, and there is no use insist- 
ing on me doing so, for I won’t,” she had declared em- 
phatically, pushing aside the beautiful dress of cream silk 
and illusion, which had been made for the occasion. 

“It is very silly of you to mope yourself to death as 
you are doing; unless you are too ill to make your ap- 
pearance this evening, I do not know what other excuse 
could be offered for your absence from the parlor,” Hen- 
rietta said, tartly; and Millie had answered wearily, “It 
makes no difference to me what you say or what they 
think.” 

Nothing attracted or interested the unhappy girl at that 
time, not even the regal beauty of the elder sister while 
she stood there beside her with the crimson light of the 
sunset stealing in at the open casement and falling about 
her; surely handsome Miss Underwood had never ap- 
peared so charming before. Her dark Southern eyes and 
languid, high-bred grace, in fact her every charm, were 
brought out to the best possible advantage, by the mag- 


376 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


nificent bridal toilette of trailing white satin, with its 
delicate laces and the gleaming diamonds which adorned 
her. No grand old picture could have looked more 
superbly queenly, not even a Titian or a Murillo, than did 
Hetty on her bridal eve. 

Then came Mrs. Porter, who would have added her 
solicitations in trying to induce Millie to go down, had it 
not been for a certain haughtiness in the girl’s bearing 
towards her. She, too, dressed exactly as the bride, 
nothing excepted but the veil and wreath of orange blos- 
soms, looked lovely as a dream. But Millie did not ap- 
pear the least enthused, and spoke no word of praise or 
comment. Then came Nellie and Nettie, both in ravish- 
ing toilettes, to beg of Millie to go down, but some- 
thing in the pale, pathetic face of their old friend stayed 
the words on their lips. They had all dressed early, as 
the marriage ceremony was to be said at nine o’clock, and 
the party to leave on the midnight train, Millie accom- 
panying them; but this thought did not interest her any 
more than other things. Day by day her condition had 
become more and more alarming, and the anxious father 
and grandmother looked eagerly forward to the voyage, 
trusting that the change would do for her what medical 
skill had failed. There was only one at Ivy Crown who 
guessed the cause of her indisposition, and that was the 
pretty widow, and tho’ she appeared to ignore entire 
knowledge of the affair, and never by look or word hinted 
it to Millie, she secretly feared that the remorse of con- 
science that was wearing upon the delicate girl would 
cause her to weaken and confess all to her father. This 


THE SHADOWS OP THE DARK VALLEY. 377 

would prove disastrous to the widow, who had made up 
her mind that should she fail to again bring Gerald to her 
feet, she would marry the Judge, and so prejudice him 
against his son as to cause him to lose his inheritance; 
such would be her revenge. She knew, too, that it was 
partly through her machinations that suspicion had fallen 
upon Rosalind, and she also knew by Gerald’s white, reso- 
lute face that he would leave no stone unturned which 
would serve to prove this girl’s innocence. All this 
passes through the wily woman’s brain again and again 
while the festive preparations are in progress, and though 
she would fain put away dull thoughts on this occasion, 
they came to her more forcibly still while she stood 
there in the presence of the sorrowing girl. Several 
hours later the rooms below presented a gay scene. The 
marriage was over, and old lady Underwood, in soft gray 
silk and the most charming of black lace caps, was dis- 
pensing her hospitality impartially around her. She had 
always made an ideal hostess, but upon that evening she 
quite surpassed herself. The dinner was superb, while 
nothing could have been more beautiful or imposing than 
the bridal gifts and lovely display of flowers and table 
appurtenances, composed of silver and gold plate and 
rare old china. A band, too, had come down from Lex- 
ington, and were discoursing sweetly; and while there was 
music, laughter and song below, Millie sat alone by the 
window of her solitary room. 

The night was lovely, following a lovely day, and while 
the stars sparkled in the deep blue vault of heaven and 
the moonlight flooded lawn and terrace and the deep woods 


378 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


beyond, she was taking a last long, lingering look of all 
these sublime beauties. Never had Ivy Crown appeared 
so grand and lovely, now that she was to leave it perhaps 
forever; and while she hearkened to the wild, sad strains 
of a waltz, tears rushed to her eyes and her bosom heaved 
with long drawn sighs. 

‘‘I know I will never live to see the dear old home 
again, but I do not care, for nothing can ever give me 
pleasure any more,” she told herself, sadly, while taking 
this farewell look, and then her eyes turned pathetically 
in the direction of the fish pond. 

But Millie’s was not the only sad heart beneath the 
roof of the old mansion on the night of this royal occa- 
sion, for long after the guests and bridal party had taken 
their departure and the house had grown quiet a solitary 
form might have been seen wending its way towards 
Morton Place, and later on, when the moon hung low and 
the stars were growing pale in the heavens, a man with 
bowed head and grief-stricken mein paced slowly beneath 
the windows of the old red house. 

Keader, need I tell you that this man was Gerald Un- 
derwood? 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

OUT IN THE WORLD. 


Nothing in my hand I bring, 

Simply to thy cross I cling; 

Naked, come to thee for dress; 

Helpless, look to thee for grace; 

Rock of ages, cleft for me. 

Let me hide myself in thee. 

HND while the happy bridegroom journeys far away 
I with his stately bride, Rosalind, too, is taking a 
journey, which is back to health, but alas! not happiness. 
She did not want to live, but by the divine law, in which 
she had been taught to believe, she knew that she was 
forbidden to take her own life, having so often heard her 
father say that to forestall the summons of God was one 
of the darkest crimes that could be perpetrated. She did 
not reason in these words, but she was actuated by the 
knowledge of their truth. An intense melancholy had 
settled upon her from which she could not rouse herself. 
She said but little, but when she arose from her sick bed 
a feeling of bitterness took possession of her, and she 
asked herself constantly why she had been permitted to 
live, when she was all alone in the world with the great 
weight of sorrow and disgrace hanging over her with no 
hope to lighten it. In vain Marietta and Peter strove to 
make her remember that she. had received the kindest care 
from old lady Underwood while she was so ill, and that 

379 


380 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Gerald, too, had come often with his grandmother and 
seemed to be so sorry, but nothing availed to give her 
consolation. The pride which was the strongest in- 
stinct left within her told her that it was only charity that 
prompted their actions, and her heart rebelled at the 
thought of having been the object of it. 

‘‘But I will go away next week, out of their reach, and 
they will never know whether I am dead or alive/’ she said 
to herself one afternoon while she sat brooding over her 
trouble. 

Then Marietta opened the door and said, softly: 

“Miss Rosalin, Master Fred Underwood wants to see 
you; mus I ax him in?” 

She hardly knew what to reply, for she was trying to 
steel her heart against all tender recollections of Ivy 
Crown and its inmates, and she realized that the sight of 
the boy would only bring them back to her; hence, she 
hesitated before saying to the servant that she would re- 
ceive him, and, while she hesitated, Fred walked in. 
There was a smile on his face and a pleasant greeting on 
his lips as he entered the door, but when the white face 
and the transparent hand which Rosalind held out to him 
dawned upon his vision, he started back, and seemed un- 
able to articulate a word; he was not prepared for the 
change he beheld in the lovely girl. 

“I am glad to see you, Freddie,” Rosalind gained 
courage to say, while the handsome lad stood there look- 
ing at her with pity and consternation written upon every 
lineament of his countenance. 

“Thank you. Miss Rosalind; I have been wishing to 


OUT IN THE WORLD, 


381 


come to see you ever since you were taken sick, but 
grandmamma said I must wait until you were better, and 
as I heard this morning that you were able to be up I 
came just as quick as I could get off. And Miss Rosa- 
lind, I want to tell you how sorry I am for all your 
trouble, and how none of us believe a word of the many 
stories that have been told about you — Gerry or grand- 
mamma, or Millie or I — and we all think it will come 
right; but you must not feel so badly over it, for you will 
grieve yourself to death, and when it is all straightened 
up you will not be here to rejoice with us.” 

Fred’s voice trembled as he spoke, and he put his hand 
to his face and dashed two great bright tears from his 
eyes, looking as if a little ashamed of his weakness. 

Rosalind felt a great throb of gratitude at her heart 
upon hearing such genuine sympathy expressed for her 
and seeing the tears that had fallen in her behalf. But 
she was spared from answering, for there was plenty of 
conversation for Fred, and he changed the subject at once 
and went on to tell her of Millie’s bad health and Henri- 
etta’s marriage. He also told her that Gerry was going to 
put him in a school at Frankfort, and then going himself 
to South America. 

Rosalind listened to everything the youth related with 
a keener interest than she had felt in anything since her 
Aunt Yilinda's death, and then, in turn, told him she 
was going to New Orleans as soon as she was well enough 
to travel. 

Just before Fred took his leave, he put his hand in his 
pocket and drew out an envelope the size of a cabinet 
picture. 


382 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Here is something Millie told me to give you, and as 
my picture is there, too, I want you to look at it some 
time and think of me — good-bye. Miss Rosalind.” 

He held out his soft, rosy palm, and took the delicate 
hand within it as tenderly as if it were a little flower that 
he feared to crush; and again the great tears flashed in 
his eyes and choked his utterance. 

The next moment Rosalind was alone, and turning to 
the window she saw the boyish form pass down the gravel 
walk and out of the little gate, and then her blinding 
tears shut him out from her vision. For some moments 
she stood there trying to summon to her aid that self- 
restraint which physical weakness seemed to have entirely 
shaken (that had hitherto been so habitual with her) be- 
fore attempting to read Millie’s letter. 

The balmy September wind blew about her, wafting the 
perfume of the late honeysuckle that climbed over a lat- 
tice near the window, to her, while in the distance the 
tinkle of a cow bell sounded on the calm evening air, and 
the forest, changing from green to vermilion and saffron 
hues, lay dreamily before her. 

“Where would she be, or what would have become of 
her by the time the trees would again put on their robes 
of green?” she asked herself sorrowfully. 

“But I must not think; I will go mad if I keep on 
in this way,” she added, while she opened the envelope 
containing the picture and saw before her Millie’s sweet 
face smiling up at her, while nestling against her shoul- 
der was the handsome curly head of the younger brother. 

As she looked a long, quivering sigh broke from her 
lips. 


OUT IN THE WORLD. 


383 


“How could it be possible that this beautiful girl had 
been the cause of so much sorrow, and worse still, dis- 
grace, to herself?” 

Alas! it was only too true, and she wondered why she 
did not hate her for the great wrong she had suffered at 
her hands. 

At this moment something else fell from the envelope, 
and upon examination Rosalind found it was a letter ad- 
dressed to herself from Millie, which ran thus: 

“Dear Rosalind: I am going away to-morrow, and 
write this to beg your forgiveness before 1 leave you for- 
ever. Oh, Rosalind, if I could only undo my past folly 
I would freely give my life; but it is too late to regret, 
for all the regret in the world cannot change things; but 
if you could only know, Rosalind, how I have suffered 
and am suffering still, you would not despise me utterly. 
You are good and true, and your Christian faith will sus- 
tain you through everything. But where am I to turn, 1 
who never troubled myself about those things, now that 
this great grief has overtaken me. I do not believe that 
I will live to return from my voyage, and I want you to 
pray for me, Rosalind, that God will give me peace, hope 
and rest. Do not grieve over what has happened to you, 
for it will all come right. 

“I remain your loving and penitent friend, 

“Millie.” 

Rosalind read these lines as one would have read a 
message from the dead, for since Millie’s disloyal con- 
duct towards her she had come to regard such friendship, 
as she had professed, as evanescent as the morning dew; 


384 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and now it was that this girl had come to her asking her 
for her prayers, and expressing a belief that her Christian 
faith would be her saving grace through all her trials. 

“And to think, I cannot pray for myself,” she solilo- 
quized, sadly. 

The next instant a vision arose before her of early sum- 
mer mornings, dewy, perfumed, silent, save for the birds 
and all the soft stir of rural birth and growth around and 
about her, a little church with kneeling forms, herself in 
their midst, and her father bending over one after another 
administering the sacrament of the death of the Savior of 
the world. The emotion, the intensity, the entire self- 
surrender of innumerable such moments in the past came 
to her with overpowering realism, and again she heard his 
voice saying, “Take and eat this in remembrance that 
Christ died for thee.” 

For some moments a feeling of penitence and deep 
humility came over her, and clasping her hands, she 
made a repeated attempt to pray, but recollecting that 
God had forsaken her, her lips remained sealed, and an 
expression of agony came over her face. It was at the 
very stage of her convalescence when everything served 
to irritate and weary her, and finding that the mental 
strain under which she labored had exhausted her phy- 
sical strength, she felt obliged to retire for the night. 
However, she found it impossible to sleep, for her 
thoughts were rapidly drifting from the past to the pres- 
ent, and while she pondered her eyes were fixed upon her 
father’s portrait. Then the past and the present became 
vaguely confused, and the moonlight without and the 


OUT IN THE WORLD. 


385 


lamplight within seemed to concentrate and glow around 
and about the loved form and face, giving to it the life 
and color of flesh and blood. 

Then the canvas seemed to move and the flgure stepped 
out in front of her, calling her name in soft, sweet tones. 
‘•Kosalind, Kosalind, ” it said, “little do you guess, child, 
how it grieves my spirit to know that you are miserable 
and cast down; but you have forgotten to look to God for 
peace and happiness, and have placed your affection 
on worldly things, and our Heavenly Father has seen 
fit to lay his chastening rod upon you. Remember^ Rosa- 
lind, he has said unto all: ‘I am the Lord thy God; thou 
shalt have none other God but me. ’ Rosalind, have you 
hearkened unto this injunction ? or have you given your 
love and trust to mortal, and, instead of the Creator, wor- 
shiped the creature? Pray to Him, my child, and believe 
on His mercy and kindness, and He will deliver you from 
the evil that besets you on every side. There is work for 
you to do in His vineyard, and you must not be found 
wanting. ” 

Then slowly the vision retreated, and Rosalind awoke 
to find the picture hanging in its old place, and to find, 
also, that this apparently realistic visitation from the 
spirit world had only been the hallucination of a dream. 
But she believed that the vision had come to her in obe- 
dience to some mysterious power allowing the communion 
of souls, and accepted it as a divine token. With a feel- 
ing of heartfelt penitence, nearer akin to happiness than 
any she had experienced for weeks, the girl threw herself 
on her knees, imploring help and strength to sustain her, 
26 


386 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and asking for a renewal of faith in the power and good- 
ness of a blessed Kedeemer. 

When she arose she felt that her prayer had been heard 
and answered and a sweet peace and resignation had been 
given her. Two weeks later she took her leave of the 
old servants and bade farewell to Morton Place; how- 
ever, not without writing a note of thanks to old lady 
L^nderwood for her great kindness to her during her ill- 
ness; ending by saying: 

“Some day I hope to prove to you I am not unworthy 
of anything that I have received at your hands. Until 
that time I bid you all adieu!” 

As soon as Gerald had learned that Rosalind was in- 
deed convalescent he had gone away; no one knew ex- 
actly where he expected to go, or what had taken him, but 
his first letter was postmarked Yera Cruz, Mexico. The 
letter stated that he would not remain long enough to re- 
ceive an answer, as he was going on to South America in 
a few days. This had ‘been addressed to his grand- 
mother, and had also stated that the investments he had 
made three years prior had proven very successful. After 
asking to be kept informed as to Rosalind’s health, he 
said: 

“Since the young lady’s trial has been put off until the 
May term of court, it will not be necessary for me to re- 
turn until that time; hence I will winter in tropical 
climes. ” 

Knowing that Gerald had gone, Rosalind had nothing 
to regret in leaving the neighborhood, and it was with a 
feeling of almost cheerfulness that she gathered together 


OUT IN THE WORLD. 


387 


her small possessions, which consisted of a couple of 
trunks, her parrot, and the money her grandaunt had in- 
closed in her last message to herx This had not been 
touched, as the little sum which was left her from the 
sale of the horses, cattle and other belongings, after the 
settlement of the debts, had sufficed to pay the doctor’s 
bill and other little expenditures, and with the small sum 
of one hundred dollars in her purse, Rosalind went forth 
in the cold world, alone and friendless, yet withal hope- 
ful, prayerful, and resigned. The portrait of her father 
had been carefully boxed and expressed to New Orleans, 
her destination, and she had shaken the hand of John 
Wilkerson and his two daughters, who went to the station 
to see her off and wish her good luck. 

“I will come back for my trial,” she said when she 
bade them good-bye. And then, after hearing the re- 
peated good-bys of Marietta and Peter, she had found 
herself ensconced in a passenger coach, en route to the 
Crescent City. Her journey was an uneventful one, for 
few of the passengers took the trouble to glance for the 
second time at the fair face and black-robed form of the 
girl, who sat so quietly in their midst; but had they 
known the sad story of the gentle-looking creature there 
was not one amongst them but would have looked with 
curiosity, if not pity, upon the lovely face. 

And tho’ Rosalind had just passed through the most 
bitter trials, there were none greater than those before 
her. A stranger in. a strange city, and she a young 
and beautiful girl. What phase of life could be more 
truly touching ? Upon her arrival in the city she gave 


388 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


instructions to the liackman to drive her to a respect- 
able but cheap boarding-house, ■which proved to be that 
of an Irish woman, a widow with several small chil- 
dren, whose appearance did not impress one with an idea 
of neatness any more than did the stuffy rooms of tidi- 
ness. But Rosalind had determined to try to make the 
best of her surroundings, no matter what they might be, 
and therefore endeavored to answer the landlady's ques- 
tions as pleasantly as possible. When she told her that 
she was an orphan and had come to New Orleans for the 
purpose of getting employment, the woman replied: 
“And sure. Miss, with yer pretty face, you would have 
been better off to have stayed along with your frinds or 
relations.” 

“I have not a living relative and but few friends, but 
I am capable of taking care of myself, I think. My 
father gave me a good education, and I had rather put it 
to use than live on friends or relatives if I had them,” 
the gill had asserted, resolutely. And the woman had 
been, for the time being, silenced. Rosalind asked per- 
mission to be allowed to go to the table after the other 
boarders had taken their meals, as she desired to 
be as quiet as possible, and the landlady had given a 
reluctant consent, thinking inwardly that the girl was 
wanting to play the fine lady and felt herself too good to 
mix with her boarders. From that time on the woman 
cherished a dislike to the new boarder that thought her- 
self so much better than common people; and though 
Rosalind tried to win her good will by kindness and 
friendliness of manner, it was impossible to remove the 


OUT IN THE WORLD. 


389 


prejudice in her heart. The little niceties and formalities 
of table etiquette, so natural to Kosalind, and which ap- 
peared altogether useless to Mrs. Maloney, were a constant 
annoyance to her, and she never let an opportunity pass 
without abusing stuck-up poor people. She was not the 
type of Irish who are supposed to be good-natured; for 
though of Irish parentage, she was American born, and 
her association had been mostly with the commoner grade 
of working people, who lay no claim to refinement, and 
resent the advent of such proclivities in their midst. And 
such was the home that this refined and intellectual girl 
had found in that city — so full of luxuriant homes, benev- 
olent and gifted women, and noble and elegant men, 
whose kind hearts would have been touched with the ten- 
derest pity, and whose hands would have been reached 
out benignly to succor an unfortunate orphan (who was 
pure and innocent) had they but known of the existence 
of such in their city. But situated as Rosalind was, she 
was as far removed from this class as if she had been in 
China or Japan, for her nature was one which rather 
avoided that sought notice; and with her native pride 
still clinging to her, anything offered in the way of pity 
or charity would have been an insult to her sensitive feel- 
ings. So in this quiet, unobtrusive way, she spent her 
time, each day scanning the newspaper columns of 
“wanted” in search of something to do, and upon find- 
ing something she felt herself competent to undertake, 
she would go out at once and answer in person. But 
upon these occasions she would always return to her com- 
fortless lodgings with a feeling of the greatest disappoint- 


390 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


ment; for though the outlook had at first appeared favor- 
able, as a rule references were always required, and she 
could furnish none. One morning upon applying for the 
position of governess, she was met most kindly by the 
lady of the house, who seemed agreeably impressed with 
her appearance, and, upon hearing that she had no letters 
of introduction with her, offered to wait until she could 
write for such, to which Kosalind had murmured her 
thanks and taken her leave, thinking as she went that 
there was no one who had formerly known her who could 
say anything in her favor until the stain that was upon 
her name had been removed. 

“It is useless to try for a position where such as a good 
name is requisite, for alas! 1 have not that to give,” she 
told herself, sadly, as she wearily ascended the stairs of 
the untidy boarding house, where she was compelled to 
meet the inquisitive glances of the uncouth looking men 
whom she met in the hallway or on the steps, who had 
been informed by their landlady that the new boarder 
thought herself too good to go to the table when they 
did. 

And thus it was that, with these uncongenial surround- 
ings, days lapsed into weeks since Kosalind had found 
herself in this strange city, and the month of October, 
with its intolerably brilliant skies by day and deep- 
starred heavens by night, was nearly at its close, and 
still she had found no employment. 

It seemed that her dainty and refined appearance 
caused those in the humbler walks of life to look on her 
with suspicion and disdain. This fact had been mani- 


OUT IN THE WORLD. 


391 


fested to her on several occasions, when she had sought 
for work in a tailoring establishment, and again where 
she had seen a notice that girls were wanted to do plain 
sewing. 

“You are not the kind of a girl that would suit our 
business,” had been the reply she received at one place, 
and again, “You are entirely too fine for our work.” 

And so it had been during tliis hopeless search; in all 
the busy world there was no place for her, she could be 
of no use to any one, yet she must live on, for what pur- 
pose she knew not. And tho’ she continued to trust in 
the goodness of God and pray night and day that the 
cloud might be lifted and she might yet be able to find 
what was required of her, there still seemed nothing be- 
fore her but impenetrable gloom. Polly, too, had been 
a source of much uneasiness to Kosalind during this try- 
ing time, seeming to be all the time aggravated and out 
of sorts, and would scream derisively at the children 
when they would come near, as they often did to annoy 
and torment her, oftentimes becoming furious. Then 
when Rosalind would close the door upon the noisy in- 
truders and try to soothe and quiet the bird, it would cry 
out, pathetically, “Poor Polly, poor Polly; Polly sick, 
Rosa sick, so sick; go to bed, Rosa, go to bed.” And in 
spite or Rosalindas resolve to be brave and try to bear all 
things patiently, at these times she would lean her head 
against Polly’s cage and weep for hours at a time. 

Quite a considerable amount had been spent out of her 
little sum for her railway ticket and other traveling ex- 
penses, and notwithstanding that her board only cost her 


392 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


three dollars per week, the constant drainage on her 
means had decreased the sum to forty dollars; what 
would become of her when it was all spent? 

“Why don’t you sell that parrot?” the landlady asked, 
coming in abruptly one day while Kosalind sat medi- 
tatively by the window. 

“I would not part with it under any circumstances; my 
grandaunt left me the bird when she died, and requested 
that I should keep it always,” Kosalind replied, with some 
spirit. 

“Well, to be sure. Miss, 1 spose you are right, but I 
can tell ye that it’s getting pretty troublesome, and some 
of me boarders have complained not a little about it 
botherin thim at nights.” 

At this juncture a handsome carriage flashed by, and 
the face of one of the women who occupied it appeared 
very familiar to Rosalind; then the driver pulled up for a 
moment to arrange some of the hainess, and the eyes of 
the woman fell upon the girl at the window. She bowed 
familiarly, and Rosalind recognized Mrs. Norton, whom 
she had last seen at Niagara. When she turned to speak 
to Mrs. Maloney, she was regarding her inquisitively. 

“And it’s the loiks uv thim ye know, is it? Thim 
people who live on Customhouse street, and roll by in 
their fine carriages every blisid day in the week the Lord 
sends,” she said indignantly before Rosalind liad time to 
explain. 

“The lady who spoke to me lives in Kentucky, or did 
when I knew her; and if she resides here now, I had not 
heard it,” she replied innocently. 


OUT IN THE WORLD, 


393 


During her few weeks in the city she had learned 
nothing of the streets and localities, and thus it was that 
the insinuation thrown out by the landlady was lost upon 
her. 

“Holy saints. I wonder if it’s me that’s going to be 
imposed upon by a creature who pretends to be too good 
for the sun to shine on ? But how could I expect any- 
thing better from a young thing like hersilf out all alone 
in this large city ? ” muttered the woman as she left the 
room and went to confide her trouble to Bridget, who was 
maid of all work in the dingy boarding-house. 

An hour later two women attired in dark dresses, one 
of whom wore a heavy veil, knocked at the so-termed 
respectable boarding-house of the widow Maloney, and 
inquired if a young lady by the name of Morton was 
stopping there, upon which the untidy servant showed 
them up the stairway, and pointed to Rosalind’s door, 
saying: “Knock at the door, mem, sure the young leddy 
is always in.” 

It was quite a surprise to Rosalind ^o find Mrs. Norton 
rapping at her door, and following close upon her tracks 
another woman, closely veiled. 

“I saw you when I passed here awhile ago, and I per- 
suaded my lady friend. Miss Blanche, to come with me 
down here. ” 

“I am glad to see you, Mrs. Norton; come in and sit 
down,” replied Rosalind cordially, placing chairs for the 
two. 

“1 was never so much surprised in my life as to see 
you at such a rickety old place as this. How in the world 


394 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


did it happen that you struck such a place ? ” asked Mrs. 
Norton with her abrupt .familiarity, her eyes roving over 
the room and coming back to fasten themselves upon the 
beautiful face of the girl. 

“As you are perhaps already aware, my grandaunt 
died, and having no other relatives, and nothing left to 
depend upon I came here to find some occupation. Of 
course, you have heard all about the dis — trouble that 
fell upon me ? ” 

“Disgrace; yes, why didn’t you speak it out. I like 
to hear people call things by their right names, and I 
might as well tell you why 1 am in New Orleans, and 
why I come to see you to-day. You see you need some 
one to help you on, and I have brought the one to you 
that can do the thing for you, and put you in a way to 
take care of yourself handsomely. You are very pretty, 
my dear! That you already know, of course, and are the 
very kind of a girl that will take, so 1 brought this lady 
with me to see if you would come with her to board, and 
get out of this dirty hole. It is very foolish of you to 
live in such a place when you can have a nice, elegant 
room, and everything you want, by coming with her.” 

Rosalind looked at the two women inquiringly; she did 
not understand Mrs. Norton’s meaning, but she was dis- 
pleased with her manner and the insolent tone she had 
employed while addressing her. 

. “You are indeed very handsome,” repeated the other, 
with lingering emphasis, “and are only throwing away 
valuable time while you hide yourself away in such a 
den; what do you say about going with me?” she asked, 
a little doubtfully. 


OUT IN THE WORLD. 


395 


“I would gladly do so if I could find employment that 
would defray my expenses; Mrs. Norton perhaps has not 
heard that my aunt left me entirely without means, and I 
am sure such comfort as she describes would be worth 
much more than I can at present afford; however, I thank 
you both for your kindly interest in me,” rejoined Kosa- 
lind, in a grateful tone. 

“Is the girl a fool, or is she posing for virtuous?” 
asked the woman of Mrs. Norton, sotto voce. 

‘ ‘If you will give me time I will find out, ” answered Mrs. 
Norton, tartly. Then, turning to Kosalind, she went on: 

“Yes, I heard all about that, and also about your affair 
with Edgar Wilkerson. So you see you ain’t fooling me 
one bit by playing so innocent; but I never believed that 
you killed him, if he did happen to be your lover, for 
you ain’t one of the kind to do such a thing. But don’t 
be foolish and try to hide things from me, for I have had 
a little experience in your line myself.” 

“Ido not understand you,” returned the girl, every 
vestage of color fading from her face. 

“Well, to be plain, I will say it again: it is right down 
foolishness to grieve after one man when there are so 
many in the world; and the proper thing to do is to look 
out for yourself. I might have settled down and grieved 
over that English lord, for, to tell the truth about it, I 
was dead gone on him; but when he fooled me into get- 
ting Norton’s money and running off and then left me, I 
knew all I had to do was to make the best of a bad bar- 
gain, for I would have killed myself before I would have 
gone back to Norton and been sneered at by them high- 


396 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


flyers; so I just looked around till I found out a few 
things, and then went to this lady’s house to board where 
all the swellest women of the town stop, and there is 
nothing small about — ” 

She had proceeded this far when a sudden movement 
from Rosalind arrested her speech; the girl had arisen 
and was standing erect before her, her blue eyes flashing, 
her cheeks flushing and paling by turns. 

‘‘1 know now what you mean; I did not understand at 
first,” she answered, with the vibration of intense emo- 
tion in her voice. “But hear me, Mrs. Norton, I am not 
what you suppose me to be, and did not dream that you 
had sunk so low. I do not condemn, but pity, you; 
neither do I blame you for coming to me on the mission 
you have, thinking what you do of me. No doubt you 
mean well after your own idea of such; but rather than 
give myself up to a life of shame, I would perish of 
starvation, were it possible, ten thousand times over and 
over again; for it would be a far more desirable fate to 
starve than to sacrifice my soul to preserve the body. All 
the persuasion in the world cannot tempt me from my 
purpose — ^go. ” 

She pointed to the door as she spoke, and the two 
women, completely baffled, turned away. 

“Come on,” said the companion of the ex-Mrs. Nor- 
ton; “if the girl is straight let her remain so.” 

Mrs. Norton laughed a little rude laugh, and stopped 
to stare at Rosalind with cold, unsympathetic eyes. 

“You are a great goose, I must say. I was only try- 
ing to help you, and you get up what the boys would call 
‘a scene.’ ” 


OUT IN THE WORLD. 


397 


Then, angered more than she would have cared to have 
acknowledged by the mistake she had made, she followed 
the other woman down the narrow stairway. She had 
made the mistake which is usually made by an ignoble 
mind — having not the least conception of a noble charac- 
ter. She felt sure that the girl was lying to her, but there 
was a look in her blue eyes that forbade her saying as 
much, and caused her to make her exit in a most quiet 
manner. Scarcely had the echo of their footsteps died 
away when again there was a knock on the door, but ere 
Rosalind had time to open it Mrs. Maloney, with an in- 
furiated expression on her face, burst into the room. 

“And it’s the likes of you that would impose yourself 
upon a poor widow who tries to keep a respectable board- 
ing house, is it? What would the priest say if he knew 
that I was harboring sich as you; and what would Patrick 
Maloney, who has bin lying peacefully in his grave for the 
last four years, say, to be told that his respectable widow 
was keeping a girl in her house that recaved the company 
of those ‘soiled duves’ — as the newspapers call thim — at 
her respectable place ? I say, yung leddy, you must git 
out right at once; 1 won’t have the likes of you in me house 
another hour; so take your bag and baggage and git.” 

In vain did Rosalind try to explain that she did not 
know the character of the women; but all that she could 
glean from the disconnected harangue, in which the 
landlady continued to indulge, was that she had sent 
Bridget to follow the women home, having had her sus- 
picions already aroused. She had been quick to suspect 
that the two, notwithstanding their plain attire, were the 
same who had bowed to Rosalind from the carriage, and 


398 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


had found her surmises correct, thereby finding sufficient 
excuse for turning the orphan from under her roof. 

So it was that Mrs. Norton, after her own coarse 
idea of helping a woman on in the world, had caused 
Rosalind to again be a homeless wanderer on the streets 
of a large city. After hours of search for some place 
to lodge, Rosalind at last procured a furnished room in 
a tenement house — not comfortable, but cheap — and tho’ 
the outlook was anything but pleasant or cheerful, and 
the fumes of some obnoxious drug from a den of Chinese 
laundrymen was borne to her with every passing breeze, 
she tried to feel content, thinking that she could at 
least have peace if nothing else. Her books which she 
had brought, with her would be of some comfort to her, 
Polly would not have so much to annoy her, and she 
could occupy some of her time by cooking her own meals. 

These were her resolves and conclusions upon thinking 
over her present situation. The unkind and very uncouth 
behavior of Mrs. Maloney did not hurt her as much as 
the nature of Mrs. Norton’s visit had done, both of which 
savored of ignorance, but it was plain to her from the 
words of the latter that those who had formerly known 
her looked upon her in the same light that the woman had 
expressed. She had never fully realized the true signifi- 
cance of the crime of which she was suspected until this 
day, for her innocence had not conceived of such a 
charge being brought against her, hence her humiliation 
was then complete. And while she thought of this her 
lips closed in dumb silence, shutting out the cry that rose 
from her heart: “Oh, beloved, beloved, can it be that 
you are lost to me forever, forever.” 


CHAPTEK XXY. 

ROSALIND’S CHRISTMAS GIFT. 

“Still the angel stars are shining, 

Still the rippling waters flow, 

But the angel-voice is silent 
That I heard so long ago; 

Hark, the echoes murmur low — 

Long ago!” 

^HE weeks dragged on wearily to Kosalind — how 
wearily none but those who have suffered sad re- 
verses can imagine. Those who have reached out and 
plucked the flowers of human happiness, only to see them 
wither in their grasp, until, leaf by leaf, every rose has 
fallen; drop by drop every vein of their heart’s blood 
has ceased to flow; when one has learned the sad and 
bitter lessons that life teaches and has seen sin flaunting 
in rich attire and honesty clothed in rags; when one has 
prayed and trusted in a divine power for help and 
strength for weeks and months, and yet no help has 
come. 

It was Christmas Eve, and everything without presented 
a glittering show, as is usual upon this occasion in every 
town and city in the universe, but never before had the 
Crescent City made such a grand display. 

The streets were crowded with people, each one seem- 
ingly intent on purchasing a present for some loved one, 
for there were gifts set forth in brilliant array tq suit all 
ages and all classes, from gayly tinted boxes of bon-bons 

399 


400 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


to sparkling jewels costing a small fortune. All of the 
churches were magnificently decorated, while before the 
flower-laden altar of the cathedral was the image of the 
babe Jesus lying in his manger. Everything was in read- 
iness for the early mass within these consecrated walls, 
while without were also tokens of good cheer and rejoic- 
ing. In all this large city there was not one so alone or 
completely isolated from human sympathy and love as 
was Kosalind. In all the world there was no one to be- 
stow upon her one little gift of remembrance, but instead, 
all that remained to her as a reminder of happier days 
was about to be taken from her, for on that night of uni- 
versal rejoicing Polly, her Aunt Yilinda’s last gift, lay 
dying. The bird had never seemed happy nor content 
since leaving Morton Place, and it really appeared that it 
was endowed sufficiently with human instinct to under- 
stand the discomforts with which it was surrounded, con- 
sequently had spent the long weeks fretting and railing 
at the sights and sounds that loomed up on every side, 
finally growing sick and refusing to eat or drink, and then 
lay in the last throes of death. 

“Poor Polly, poor Polly, you were my last earthly 
tie,” thought Kosalind, while her tears fell thick and fast 
on the limp creature, and then it seemed that the forti- 
tude and self-denial which had been uppermost in her life 
these, last sad months were indeed about to forsake her. 

The many months in which she had shut her lingering 
grief silently within her own heart was telling on her phys- 
ically, as it will on the strongest constitution. Solitude 
of thought and absence of sympathy had the effect on her 


ROSALIND’S CHRISTMAS GIFT. 


401 


youth and timidity that a chilling frost has upon a tender 
plant which through neglect has been left unprotected, 
for it is natural that under the strain of great mental suf- 
fering the whole being becomes morbid, the senses dulled, 
and it is as tho’ we had ceased to live. Patience and piety 
fail to comfort and the hopelessness of despair settles 
upon us. 

Rosalind did not realize that the unselfishness and lofti- 
ness of her nature had placed her in the questionable 
position which she then occupied, for had she explained 
to Gerald, even on the occasion of their last meeting, how 
matters stood between Millie and Edgar Wilkerson, sus- 
picion would not have fallen so heavily upon her; at least 
Gerald would have believed her guiltless, and that would 
have been everything to her. How she had loved him, 
and loved him still, with all the intensity of her loyal na- 
ture — even in her poverty and seclusion not thinking of 
herself, but thinking of him and praying that a divine 
power would watch over him and protect him from harm 
or danger. 

“If I, too, could only die to-night,” she thought, 
sadly, while she watched her parrot’s breath grow shorter 
and shorter, “no one would ever miss me or regret me in 
any way; then why is it that I am left here to grope 
in the darkness when the light of immortality alone can 
shed brightness on my future? Oh, God, be merciful and 
receive my soul!” she murmured, “there is nothing left 
me in this world.” 

Then she laid her head close to the dying bird, and a 
kind of oblivious stupor stole over her. How long she 


402 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


lay thus she did not know, when suddenly she was awak- 
ened by a ringing, rushing sound which burst upon the 
silence. Bells, sweet, joyous toned bells, very tongues 
of melody, were chiming in softest tones of eloquence, 
now falling upon her ear low and sweet as the cradle 
song of a new mother, then rising higher and higher in 
rich, full notes of triumphant jubilee, and finally dispers- 
ing themselves in delicate, broken echoes: “Peace on 
earth, good will to men. Peace — on — earth, — good — 
will — to — men,” they seemed to say over and over again. 

It was early morning, and this was the Christmas mass. 
But to Kosalind these good tidings meant nothing — she 
who was one apart from human life, an alien from its 
friendships, its loves, and all that made it worth living. 
There was nothing for her to rejoice over; no kind and 
loving Savior had stretched forth a hand to help and save 
her, she who had never harmed mortal man or woman, 
who would even step aside in her daily walks rather than 
crush a creeping thing; yet while all people were rejoicing 
over this festive occasion, even the very poorest sharing 
in its celebration by giving and receiving little friendly 
gifts, there was not even left to her the greeting of Pol- 
ly’s voice on this Christmas morning, for while she had 
slept the poor forlorn creature had breathed its last. 
With her brain full of these whirling thoughts, Rosalind 
arose and opened the window. The bells had ceased, 
and a profound hush had again fallen over the city. A 
cold dew, that could scarcely be termed a frost, lay chill- 
ingly upon the window panes and dampened the earth. 
The girl shivered and turned away. 


ROSALIND’S CHRISTMAS GIFT. 403 

“I must make poor Polly a casket,” she thought, open- 
ing a trunk and searching about its contents with some 
faint interest. 

Pretty soon her search seemed rewarded, for she drew 
out a satin covered box, which she had made only one 
year ago for her father’s slippers and presented it to him 
as one of her Christmas offerings. Only a year since 
that happy Christmas day; but alas, what ages it seemed 
had passed since then. And yet while she held the box 
in her hand everything that had happened on that day 
rose up as vividly before her as if it were but yesterday. 
She remembered her father’s peaceful, happy countenance 
as it beamed upon her across the table, for though traces 
of ill health were upon it at that time, there was no mur- 
mur or complaint on the dear lips. 

She remembered, too, that their Christmas cake had 
been a plum pudding, fashioned after old Martha’s ex- 
travagant manner of cooking — very rich and indigestable. 
And again she remembered how, before the meal was 
over, something had been added to their dinner from 
nearly every house in the village, until their table fairly 
groaned under sundry dishes of turkey, chicken, roast, 
cake, tarts, and everything that could be thought of in 
the way of eatables. She remembered, also, her father’s 
amusement upon viewing the great variety spread out be- 
fore him. 

‘‘One can not help but wonder what the unusual dis- 
play of victuals upon this day has to do with the coming 
of the Savior, whom we are told arrived among us in 
such a lowly estate that even a roof was denied him,” he 
had remarked upon surveying this feast. 


404 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Surely there is nothing symbolic in such a commem- 
oration of Christ — nothing poetic, nothing graceful, 
nothing even orthodox, for the Orientals among whom he 
was born are very small eaters, especially in the use of 
meat. In spite of our Christianized land such as this 
always reminds me of the feasts the ancient Greeks and 
Romans offered to their gods.” 

Thus it was while Rosalind put a few finishing touches 
upon the box that was to serve for Polly’s casket, mem- 
ory bells were ringing back to her of that happy time in 
tones sadder and sweeter than ^olian harp chords, 
touched by the gentle fingers of passing zephyrs. And 
while, as if by the hand of magic, she was led back into 
the past, she lifted the remains of the bird gently from 
the pillow, and wrapping some soft white material about 
its stiffened limbs placed it in the silken-lined casket. 

“I will go out to the cemetery to-day and ask the sex- 
ton to let me have a little grave for the poor bird,” she 
soliloquized as she completed these preparations, and sat 
down to watch beside her dead, almost envying the peace- 
fulness of its repose, from which no discordant sound 
could ever again awaken it. 

“But it will not be long before I, too, will be given 
this peace and rest. Only a few farthings remain to me, 
and when that is gone I will have nothing with which to 
buy food to sustain me, hence will die of starvation. God 
knows I have tried to do my duty in aiding myself to 
live — tho’ my happiness is forever wrecked — but every- 
thing has failed me, and if my Heavenly Father so wills 
that my body should perish in this way, so be it.” 


ROSALIND’S CHRrSTMAS GIFT. 


405 


For some moments she sat there meditating upon this 
when suddenly her eyes chanced to fall on the empty 
cage; then she bethought herself of what her aunt 
Yilinda had written her in regard to it, in case of her buy- 
ing a new cage for the bird: “Take the ol^ one to pieces 
and keep it in remembrance of me,” she had instructed, 

“I will do this right now while 1 think of it, for I can- 
not well bear the sight of the empty cage,” she thought, 
taking it down and commencing her task. It was a 
strongly built cage, and Rosalind worked some time be- 
fore detaching the top. This being at last accomplished, 
she proceeded to remove the bottom, which proved a still 
more difficult undertaking, for, while she worked, she 
discovered that there were two distinct layers of zinc 
forming this part, separated by almost an inch. Before 
either of these pieces could be removed, her attention was 
attracted by a small spring, so small as to be scarcely 
perceptible. With a sudden movement she placed her 
finger upon this and pressed against it, when, quick as 
thought, the intervening strip slipped downward, disclos- 
ing the interior. Mechanically she placed her hand 
within the aperture and drew out a roll of something 
wrapped in tissue paper. One after another of these rolls 
were drawn out until ten of them lay before her, all se- 
curely wrapped. 

“I will see what it is that Aunt Yilinda has hidden 
away so carefully,” she thought, unwrapping the delicate 
roll of tissue from one of the packages. 

Then, all of a sudden, an exclamation of surprise and 
gladness fell from the girl’s lips — for there, before her 
astonished eyes, lay roll upon roll of paper money. 


406 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


Bewildered as one in a dream, she took up roll at a 
time and counted it, finding that, in all, the sum amounted 
to ten thousand dollars; while written upon a small scrap 
of paper were these words: 

“To my dear and honored niece, Rosalind Morton, 1 
give and bequeath the sum of ten thousand dollars. 

(Signed) “Yilinda Marmaduke Morton.” 

Then slowly the facts of the case all dawned upon 
Rosalind. The good old aunt had mortgaged the Morton 
Place for seventeen thousand dollars; with the seven 
thousand she had paid her debts, while the remaining ten 
thousand had been hidden in Polly’s cage for the benefit 
of herself. The aunt had never dreamed of the dire mis- 
fortunes which would assail her grandniece after her death 
or else she would have placed this money more readily 
at her disposal. 

“Saved! saved; heaven be praised!” cried the girl, 
sinking on her knees and clasping her hands in a prayer 
of thankfulness. 

Yes, heaven be praised, Rosalind was saved — saved 
from the jarring insults and cold suspicion of the world; 
saved from the prison walls of the lowly tenement house; 
saved from contact with the filth and ignominy of the de- 
praved classes of the poor; saved from the cruel pangs of 
hunger and cold! Chime again, sweet bells, and echo 
back that joyful shout, “Heaven be praised, heaven be 
praised!” 

Truly, a Savior was born into the world, whose love still 
aboundeth and whose mercy and goodness abideth forever. 

Then let the joy bells still ring forth their glad tidings: 
Glory to God in the highest — peace and good will to men! 


CHAFTEE XXYI. 

REVELATIONS. 


“ Still the wood is dim and lonely, 

Still the plashing fountains play, 

But the past and all its beauty — 

Whither has it fled away ? 

Hark the mournful echoes say— 

Fled away! 

“ Cease, oh echoes, mournful echoes! 

Once I loved your voices well ; 

Now my heart is sick and weary. 

Days of old a long farewell! 

Hark! the echoes, sad and dreary, 

Cry farewell ! farewell ! ” 

HGAIN it was lovely springtime. April, with its smiles 
/ * and tears, its bursting buds of leaf and flower, was 
scattering its beauties far and near; and while its light 
zephyrs were sweeping softly over the land, beautiful Ivy 
Crown, with its variegated borders of early flowers, of 
white and purple, blue and gold, looked even as lovely as 
in the noontide of summer, when the grounds are ablaze 
with bloom and verdure. It was evening, soft, balmy 
and cool. A week-old moon, bright as burnished silver, 
sat in the midst of countless stars and looked serenely 
down on the peaceful beauty of the scene. The liquid 
plash of the fountains murmured musically, sounding cool 
and fresh to the ear, while in the distance the song of a 
whippoorwill could be heard chanting its evening lay. 

407 


408 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


But notwithstanding this sublime peacefulness without, 
there was sadness and gloom within, for Millie, the beau- 
ful idol of the household, lay sick unto death. Nothing 
had sufficed to eradicate the brooding melancholy that 
had never left her since the tidings of Edgar Wilkerson's 
death, tho’ the father and party had spent the greatest 
part of their time while abroad in lingering at places they 
had hoped would benefit her; but neither had the sunny 
skies, delightful climate nor beautiful scenery of Italy 
had any more desirable effect upon her than had India, 
with its many strange sights — Pagan religion, Juggernaut 
god and holy river Ganges. Paris, too, had been visited — 
that city of which Heinrich Heine has said, “Not only is 
it the capital of France, but of the whole civilized world, 
and the rendezvous of its most brilliant intellects.” 
Here Judge Underwood had placed his ailing daughter 
under the treatment of one of the most celebrated German 
physicians, who, after some weeks of skillful attention, 
had said, “Ach, Gott, it is no use to try longer, there is 
no hope; take her home.” And the heart-broken father 
had obeyed. 

Hence Henrietta had not carried out her cherished wish 
of completing her tour of the Orient by going through 
Persia and into that paradise by the Caspian sea, where 
it is the custom for brides to ride about the country on 
sturdy little gray asses, through meadows richly fragrant 
with wild hyacinths and mignonette, and then to have 
crossed the Persian gulf and gone over into Arabia and 
Turkey and visited Damascus, Bethlehem and Jerusalem. 

Not because of the fact that Damascus was the most 


REVELATIONS. 


409 


ancient city in the world, or that Christ had been born at 
Bethlehem and crucified at Jerusalem, did the new bride 
wish to see those landmarks of antiquity, but because it 
was according to the latest society fad. However, Mil- 
lie’s ill-health had prevented them extending their tour 
beyond India, and now they were all back at Ivy Crown, 
with the exception of Mrs. Porter, who had stopped at 
Frankfort. 

Since this lady had recently become engaged to marry 
the Judge she felt a delicacy in returning to Ivy Crown 
as a guest. Owing to Millie’s rapid decline, the Judge 
desired the announcement withheld from his family for 
some months yet, and the widow, feeling assured that the 
sick girl cherished for her a secret ill-will, gladly acqui- 
esced. Upon this evening the family were all assembled 
around the downy couch of the invalid, whose flower- 
like face, thin and drawn by suffering, and almost as 
white as the snowy pillows upon which it lay turned 
anxiously from one to the other. 

“Do I realize it, that again I am at home? ” she mur- 
mured pathetically. “Yes, we are all here but Gerald.” 

On one side of the bed sat an Episcopal minister, who 
had come to administer the sacrament, while on the other 
knelt the doting grandmother. 

“My daughter, will you not eat of the bread and drink 
of the wine of eternal life with me? ” asked the minis- 
ter, bending gently over her. 

A paroxysm of pain flitted over the white face upon 
hearing the good man’s words. 

“No, no, I can not, I will not; I am not worthy. I 


410 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


only want to see my brother Gerald once more, and then 
I think I will be content to die,” she cried impulsively. 

So, finding it to be a useless task to urge her further, 
the minister, after a touching prayer, took his leave, 
promising the weeping grandmother that he would return 
the following day. 

“We are expecting Gerald home hourly,” she ex- 
plained while bidding him good-bye. 

Gerald had been telegraphed for. He was at Yera 
Cruz, having landed on his return from South America, 
when they last heard, and there had come an immediate 
answer to the message, saying “that he would start home 
on the next steamer.” 

It was the same evening just described when Gerald 
debarked at New Orleans; and, finding that the north- 
bound train due to leave that place was two hours late, 
he determined to walk about the city. There was a look 
of weariness and dissatisfaction upon his handsome face, 
and his lips wore their old habitual expression of cynicism. 
His life had been anything but a happy one since leaving 
Ivy Crown; but, for the sake of drowning old memories, 
he had plunged into business that required both tact and 
skill. Three years prior he had bought shares in a gold 
mine in Mexico, which was at this time yielding abun- 
dantly, and though finance had always been obnoxious to 
him, he had endeavored with all his will to concentrate 
his whole attention upon it. He was deeply grieved at 
the knowledge of Millie’s illness, and while he wandered 
aimlessly around his thoughts went back to the springtime 
of a year ago, when the fair young face had dawned upon 


REVELATIONS 


411 


him and he saw the child he had left scarce four years 
before a blooming young woman. And associated with 
that time, there came another face before his mental 
vision, one that had scarcely ever left his memory since 
he had first seen it, and that was the face of Eosalind 
Morton. And while his thoughts wandered back to her on 
that night, he softly repeated — 

“ The world is wide, our ways are drear; 

A river flows between. 

Ah, me! the distant days, sweetheart, 

And all that might have been.” 

“Why, Gerald, is it possible? the very last person in 
the world I was expecting to meet to-night,” said a 
familiar voice beside him. 

“And I am just as agreeably surprised,” returned Ger- 
ald, shaking the hand that Henry Courts extended. 

Then followed mutual explanations. Henry had not 
heard of Millie’s illness, or the family’s return from 
abroad, and expressed much concern. He had come to 
Hew Orleans partly to attend to some business for his 
father, and partly on an excursion of pleasure. Then the 
two walked on, while Henry related all the happenings 
of any import in the Bluegrass since Gerald’s absence. 
Everything was discussed, even the coming trial of Kosa- 
lind Morton, which had been set for the following month. 

“I have heard that she will have no difficulty in coming 
off scott free, as there has been no prosecution, and it may 
be that the case will not be called. I wonder what ever 
did become of her ? You know it is said that the old aunt’s 
property was all taken for debt, and the girl left with 


412 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


only enough money to get away from the neighborhood.” 

Gerald had never heard of this before; his feelings at 
that time had been too much perturbed about other things 
to have given this matter any attention. And now he 
shuddered at the thought of the beautiful, unfortunate 
girl being alone and penniless out in the cold and un- 
charitable world — she who had impressed him with the 
idea of being so far removed from womankind that it was 
impossible to think of her in connection with them; what 
would she do adrift, without home, friends or protection 
of any kind ? she, whom he had looked upon as being far 
too pure and saintly to live in the corrupt atmosphere of 
modern society; how could it be possible for her to mingle 
with the common clay of ordinary humanity ? 

They were nearing a church at this time, around which 
a great crowd had gathered, while the interior seemed to 
be packed full. 

“There is a great evangelist preaching here to-night; 
would you like to go in?” Henry asked, as they drew 
near. 

“No, I believe not, as I do not like a crowd,” Gerald 
answered, then paused involuntarily, for the deep-toned 
organ had sounded its prelude, and the choir commenced 
to sing. “Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee! e’en 
though it be a cross that raiseth me,” rang out in great 
swelling notes on the still air; and as this was a favorite 
hymn of Gerald’s, he stood and listened. 

“We will go in if it is possible,” said Gerald, leading 
the way at once and with the greatest difficulty pushing 
through the crowded doorway up the aisle. Tho’ his face 


REVELATIONS. 


413 


was calm, his heart was wildly beating with expectancy, 
for while the choir sang, one voice had arisen higher and 
higher, richer and fuller than all the rest, and in that 
grand, sonorous voice there was a lingering pathos that 
sounded sweetly familiar. At last they were near enough 
to get a view of the minister and the pulpit, with its over- 
hanging dark green foliage and bunches of la France 
roses, but they could not see the faces of the singers — at 
least Gerald could not, and his anxiety to catch a glimpse 
of the owner of the angelic voice had grown intense. 

“ Still all my song* shall be, 

Nearer my God, to thee. 

Nearer, my God, to thee. 

Nearer to thee!” 

chanted the choir, while in their midst, as tho’ the heavens 
had opened and given an angel flight to lead her voice on 
and on to grandeur and sweetness, came the ravishing 
strains of this harmonious vocalist. Higher and higher, 
richer and richer, clearer and clearer flowed the melody, 
until nearly all the congregation, who had flrst joined the 
singers, had ceased, and were listening with breathless 
rapture to the enchanting voice. 

“Come this way, Gerald, if you wish to see the new 
St. Cecilia; 1 have just succeeded in getting a sight of 
her,” said Henry, drawing Gerald towards him. “Now 
the question is, who is this inspired songstress? Is there 
not something familiar about her?” asked Henry, signifi- 
cantly. 

But the question was lost upon Gerald, for he was gaz- 
ing as one spellbound, dumb with admiration and aston- 


414 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


ishment, for there before him was the classic face, the 
lovely blue eyes, beaming with a divine light, yet wear- 
ing a shade of sadness in their violet depths; the perfect 
curves of her willowy form clearly defined in the white 
dress; the golden gleams amid the coils of rich auburn 
hair shining out distinctly in the light of the chandelier, 
her whole attitude bespeaking restful, devotional thoughts, 
and looking a saint indeed, stood Rosalind Morton. Then 
the organ pealed out a long drawn refrain, and the choir 
sat down, but still Gerald remained standing there as one 
transfixed. 

“I say, do you recognize the face?” asked Henry, 
eagerly. 

Gerald nodded a reply, fearing if he should speak his 
voice would betray him. 

‘‘It doesn’t look much like that of a murderess, does 
it?” went on Henry, little dreaming how his light words 
jarred upon the most sensitive chords of Gerald’s nature. 

The minister arose at this moment, and Gerald realized 
that it was time for him to go — his train would soon be 
due. 

Two days later he reached home, to hear that Millie 
was rapidly sinking. 

“She cannot possibly last twenty-four hours longer, the 
doctor says, and her whole thoughts are of you,” were the 
words of the weeping grandmother, and without delay he 
went to the room of the dying girl. 

“Gerry, Gerry, thank God you have come,” Millie 
whispered, holding up her emaciated arms and placing 
them about his neck. 


REVELATIONS. 


415 


The brother bent forward and great tears rolled down 
Ills cheeks, and sobs shook his strong form; he was not 
prepared to witness the sad change that had taken place 
in the sister since he had last seen her, and was therefore 
unable to control his shocked emotion. 

“I am so glad that you have come,” she continued, 
“for I could not die in peace until I had seen you and 
told you the secret that lies heavy on my heart. Grand- 
mamma, please leave us alone, as what 1 have to say is 
to Gerry only* When I am gone he can tell you all.” 

The old lady administered a cordial, and then quietly 
withdrew. Gerald raised the frail little body and ad- 
justed the pillows, and Millie continued: 

“I must be brief, Gerry, for my hours are numbered, 
but I must tell you and ask your forgiveness before it is 
all over with me; but I fear when you have heard my 
story you will think that there ought not to be any for- 
giveness for such wickedness, either human or divine.” 

“Millie, I could forgive you anything, though I think 
your illness has made whatever the misdemeanor might 
be appear tenfold greater. I cannot conceive of my little 
sister ever having committed a sin of any kind. But if 
it will be of any comfort to you to tell me, do not hesitate.” 

“You do not know what a wicked girl I was; but when 
I tell you that I disobeyed papa, and caused a great deal 
of trouble to another person, you will have some idea 
how very bad I have been. But, Gerry, I didn’t mean it 
at the time, and only thought of one thing in the world, 
and that was my love for Edgar Wilkerson.” 

At these words Gerald started with an exclamation of 


416 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


surprise; but before be could ask a question Millie 
went on: 

“I knew you did not dream of such a thing, and that 
you all looked upon me as a child, but not so, for I was 
a woman at heart, and loved him with all the fervor and 
worshipful affection that it is possible for any woman to 
feel. Papa heard something hinted to the effect that we 
were sweethearts, and took me to task about it, telling me 
to have as little to say to Edgar as possible, and by no 
means to encourage his attentions, and then it was that I 
went to Kosalind Morton and asked her to favor me by 
being the bearer of messages between us.” 

Here Millie paused, and Gerald without a word sat 
looking at her with consternation written upon his white 
face. 

“1 cannot say much more, Gerald, but I must try to 
tell you how this sweet girl begged that I would not do 
anything of this kind, and how I got angry and told her 
she did not care for me, by this means gaining her con- 
sent; and how she was talked about for meeting Edgar 
in Victoria Park the night before she left Niagara. 
Gerry, Gerry, hear me and forgive; it was I who sent 
her to the park that night with a message for Edgar.” 

Gerald arose to his feet and stood regarding Millie 
with scorn and disgust expressed upon his face, then said 
hoarsely; ‘‘Millie, Millie, how could you do such a thing 
and then not say a word in defense of the wronged girl? 
It seems impossible for an Underwood to ever stoop to 
such an act as to allow an innocent girl to suffer the con- 
sequences of such a folly. How could you, Millie? How 
could you? ” 


REVELATIONS. 


417 


“Gerry, you promised to forgive me, and if you knew 
the tortures i have suffered you would not censure mo too 
harshly. I have longed to tell you this, that you might 
try and find Kosalind and have all this story cleared up 
about her being anything to Edgar Wilkerson. You will 
do it, Gerry; I know you will.” 

“I will try, Millie; but tell me, what did the note 
mean that was written in Rosalind’s hand, and signed by 
her, asking Edgar to meet her in the park that night ? ” 

“It must have been some of Mrs. Porter’s work, 
Gerry, for she was the one who found my note to Edgar, 
and advised me not to meet him, but send a friend. She 
was jealous of Rosalind on your account, and brought up 
everything she could against the poor girl.” 

The sick girl had spoken with difiiculty throughout, 
and now she lay back faint and exhausted. Before an- 
other word could be uttered there came a rap at the door. 

“There is a gentleman in the hall asking for you,” 
said the servant, whom Gerald found waiting at the door. 

“I will come back in a little while, Millie,” he said, 
kissing her wan cheek; then following the boy into the 
hall. 

It was no little surprise to Gerald to find the sheriff 
waiting to see him, but he greeted him kindly and asked 
him to be seated. “No, I thank you,” returned the 
officer, “my business is of the greatest importance, 
which really concerns your father, but since we have not 
the least idea of his whereabouts, I will be glad if you 
will go with me; the fact is, there is another inquest to 
be held at the fish pond on your premises, and we wanted 


27 


418 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


to get over with it as quickly as possible. It is perfectly 
necessary that some of your family should be present.” 

“In the name of God, who is the unfortunate victim 
this time?” asked Gerald, in a tone of horror. 

“That is just what we are trying to find out,” said the 
officer, as the two started in a rapid pace towards the ill- 
fated fish pond. “You see, there has been any amount 
of excitement amongst the negroes, who work the farms 
about here, for the last three months. It seems that they 
were all impressed with the idea that this locality was in- 
fested with ghosts and hobgoblins of all descriptions. 
Some of the white people, too, claim to have seen the 
most unaccountable sights while riding along this imme- 
diate vicinity. Then suddenly everything calmed down, 
and until the last two weeks there was no excitement. 
Within that time there has arisen from the pond a terrible 
stench — so offensive, in truth, that the people were obliged 
to ride miles out of their way to avoid coming near it. 
Well, to cut a long story short, old man Wilkerson, who 
has been greatly exercised over the various reports con- 
cerning his dead son — having heard it vaguely hinted that 
it was the spirit of Edgar that was roving about, and that 
the obnoxious smell was some diabolical influence brought 
about by his boy being murdered there — sent a telegram 
to Louisville asking the detective, that he and yourself 
employed at the time of Edgar’s death, to come down. 
This morning he came, and the first thing he ordered was 
that the pond should be dragged; and what do you sup- 
pose they found? Why, the most hideous looking 
thing that in all my life I have ever seen, which is noth- 


REVELATIONS. 


419 


ing more nor less than the fearful mystery that has baf- 
fled the skill of the most diligent people of this part of 
the country who have tried every way to trace it and find 
out where it belonged — but here we are at the place.” 

The officer was too busy talking to observe Gerald’s 
agitation while hearing this, and every one present was 
also too much occupied to give heed to his pale cheeks 
when he arrived in their midst. The coroner had already 
assembled his witnesses some distance from where lay the 
dead body, and was swearing them in. Gerald^ too, was 
arraigned as one of the witnesses, and then the court pro- 
ceeded to business. The first witness examined was a 
negro man who had been employed on Judge Under- 
wood’s farm for several years. He testified to having 
seen the creature while living on several occasions, but 
could not say who it was connected with, tho’ he sus- 
pected the Underwoods were knowing to it. 

“I don’t know notin more bout hit, but ole Uncle Jake 
Underwood kin tell you somthin if anybody can,” he 
ended by saying. 

So accordingly Jake was called. 

‘‘What’s your name, sir?” was the first question put to 
the old darkey, who was shaking visibly and had turned 
ashen pale. 

“Jake Underwood, sar,” was the quavering reply. 

“Well, Jake, we want you to tell us everything you 
know about the body you have just looked upon, and we 
want the truth, and nothing but the truth, or you will 
suffer the penalty at the hands of the law. Do you un- 
derstand, sir?” 


420 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“Yes, sar,” repeated Jake. 

“Well, proceed now.” 

And Jake, with much stammering and repetitions, told 
his story, which was, omitting the negro dialect, as fol- 
lows: 

He had belonged to Judge Underwood’s father, and 
then had fallen to the son. There had been only two 
children, the Judge and a daughter, who was eight years 
his junior, two children between the brother and sister 
having died in infancy. The Judge had married while 
the young Misses was yet at school, and then the war 
came up, and tho’ he, Jake, was free after its close, he 
had stayed along with his master. Twenty-nine years 
ago the young Misses had come home from boarding 
school, very beautiful and talented and much sought 
after. At this time the Judge had only one child, which 
was Master Gerald, and the grandmother and mother and 
blooming young lady, and the Judge, had made the very 
happiest family that could be imagined, until there came 
trouble into the household. 

An artist was in the neighborhood who was painting 
portraits, and nothing would do the young Misses but 
she, too, should sit for her picture. Before the work was 
finished the artist had gained the lady’s affection, and she 
had acknowledged the fact to her mother and brother, 
both of whom had become furious, and he had been or- 
dered off the place and the young lady threatened with a 
convent, when suddenly she was missing, and the news 
came back that she had eloped with the handsome young 
artist. Then there had come letters begging for forgive- 


REVELATIONS. 


421 


ness, and saying that she could not have lived without 
her loved husband; but they had all taken a vow never 
to write to her or speak to her again, and therefore had 
paid no attention to the letters, and only the Judge’s 
wife would read them, and feel sorry. For a long time 
they heard nothing, then a letter came, saying that her 
husband was sick and asking that they would send her a 
mere pittance of what was hers by right, but this entreaty 
had been treated with silent contempt, as had the others. 
She was disowned by all her people and an alien from her 
home. Then came the saddest part yet of old Jake’s 
story, and while he told it the silence was intense. 

‘^But de very worst of it’s to cum,” continued the old 
man, wiping his eyes, and looking around. “One night 
when hit was rainin cats and dogs somthin was heard 
crying and hoilerin out in de fine ole flower garden of 
Ivy Croun, but being as nobody herd hit but de servants, 
nobody didn’t go out, and de next mornin dey found de 
purty young Misses layin thar wid great handsful of hare 
what she had pulled out of her head, stone ded, and thar 
by her side was a new-born babe.” 

Again the old negro paused and looked uneasily around 
him. 

“Go on, Jake; don’t be afraid to tell what you know, ” 
said the coroner briefly. Thus reassured, Jake com 
tinued: 

“Well, they all thought hit was ded, too; but when 
dey moved it hit began to cry, and so de grandmother 
had my wife take hit up to my cabin and tend to hit, and 
hit libed on, and by de time hit was old enuff to walk, 


422 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


wus tlie ugliest creeter de sun eber shone on, and hit wus 
more like a wild varmint then a human bein; and as hit 
growed older hit got wose and wose, till by an by dey 
sent hit to a doctor, and he sed hit was de wose kind of 
ediot he’d eber seen. Well, when hit got tu be bout 
twelve yars old, de white folks put hit in sum kin of hin- 
situte, but hit was sich a terror dat dey wouldn’t hab hit 
and sont hit back; den my ole Oman died, and den de 
Jedge put me to tend to hit, and, gent’men of de jury, 1 
ken not begin to tell you what a time I hev had wid hit. 
No matter how keerful I wus wid de creeter, hit would 
scape me and run like a deer through dem woods; and 
many nights I hab spent sarching de woods ober to find 
hit, and den hit would scratch an bite me like all fires; 
and many scars I’ll kerry tu my grabe dat hit gib me. 
Of couse I knowed all bout what it wus dat made de 
people think dar wuz ghosts round here, but den 1 wus 
bleeged tu keep my mouth shet about it, fur de Jedge 
paid me well tu take keer of hit, an hif I hadn’t been 
obleeged tu tell what I knowed dis evening, nothin would 
hab made me gib de secret away. Well, bout a month 
ago hit scaped me entirely; de Jedge wus away and de 
ole Misses and me got two udder cullud gent’men to help 
hunt fur hit, and we scoured de country ober, but we 
couldn’t find hare or hide of hit, and den de Jedge cum 
home and fotch his youngest darter back so sick dat we 
hated tu tell him, but had tu do hit, and hits my pinion 
dat he’s gone out tu make some investurgations bout de 
matter dis morning; and here hit is dat de poor creeter 
wus in dis pond all de time.” 


/ 


REVELATIONS. 


423 


Here Jake stopped, and the detective arose and asked 
permission to put a few questions to the witness. This 
was granted him at once. 

“Jake, do you remember where this crazed creature 
was the night of Edgar Wilkerson’s murder?” he in- 
quired, while every one listened with breathless interest. 

“Well, let’s see if I can recilect?” said the old man, re- 
flectively. 

After a little while he continued: 

“Yes, sar, I remember now; all day dat day hit wuz 
givin dem monstrous howls, and tinks I to myself, thars 
goin tu be a deth in de naborhood; and late dat evenin 
while I wuz cookin me and hit a little supper hit got 
away and I couldn’t find hit eny whare, but bout ten 
o’clock I herd hit givin dem terrible war hoops and found 
hit runnin like puttin out fire towards de house. All 
night long hit gib dem awful schreeches, and I lay thar 
wonderin who had died round de naborhood, fur true as 
preachin dat edotic creeter always give dem signs when 
enything awful wus goin tu turn up. He doctor sed dat 
de mother’s mind wus terribly out ob sorts before de chile 
wus born what caused hit tu be de awful munstrosity dat 
hit wus.” 

“That will do, Jake; now if the court will permit I 
want Jake to bring all the garments in the way of outside 
apparel that his charge wore,” said the detective; and 
the coroner sent him at once on this errand. 

In a little while the old man returned with a large bun- 
dle, and according to order spread the coarse woolen and 
cotton garbs upon the grass. And while the detective 


424 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


proceeded to examine them separately, every one sat look- 
ing on, dumb with wonder and amazement, while not a 
sound broke the stillness that reigned supreme. At last 
he raised one of the checked cotton gowns from the 
ground containing a rent about half as large as his hand, 
which had been roughly patched, then he took from 
his pocket a small parcel, and unfolding it, fitted a piece 
of cloth of corresponding color and checks into the aper- 
ture. 

“Gentlemen of the jury,” he said, composedly, “this 
piece of cloth, on which you will find blood stains upon 
closer examination, I found within a few feet of where 
Edgar Wilkerson was murdered. It had been caught on 
a thorn bush and torn from the garment apparently while 
the person wearing it was running at full speed ; the case 
is now explained in a few words. The stiletto owned by 
Miss Morton had been lost, doubtless near here, this 
creature, whose imbecile nature has just been described 
by its attendant, found it, and without knowing or caring 
who was its victim, dealt the murderous blow.” 

No one disputed the facts laid bare ; and before the 
adjournment of the rural court on that April day it was 
fully agreed that the true assassin of Edgar Wilkerson 
was no other than the fearful mystery of Ivy Crown. 


CHAPTER XXYIl. 


CONCLUSION. 

^^Feast, and your halls are crowded; 

Fast, and the world goes by; 

Succeed and give and it helps you live, 

But no man can help you die. 

There is room in the halls of pleasure 
For a long and a lordly train, 

But one by one we must all file on 
Through the narrow aisles of pain.” 

^H£ soft twilight of a lovely afternoon steals through 
the open windows of a neat little house, situated in 
the distant suburbs of the Crescent City, disclosing to the 
eyes of the passer-by the blue silk curtains and other 
tasteful appointments of the interior that go to make 
home attractive, while without great jars of exotics bor- 
dered the veranda and bloomed luxuriantly about the 
tiny yard. All the comforts of the little place seemed 
doubly enhanced by the silence and repose that lingered 
over it, truly appearing the embodiment of a poet’s idyl. 
Here, in this peaceful abode, removed from the hum-drum 
life of the busy city, Rosalind had found a home, but not 
alone, for Marietta and Peter, the faithful old servants of 
her late aunt, had come to her as soon as she had become 
settled, and were as happy as children over their good 
fortune. When Rosalind found herself in possession of 
the snug little sum of ten thousand dollars she sought out 
a minister who had been a friend and fellow-worker of her 

425 


426 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


father's, whom by the merest accident she had found re- 
sided in New Orleans. To him she had confided her sad 
story, omitting nothing that had occurred to her since her 
father’s death, receiving in turn the* warmest sympathy 
from himself and good wife, both of whom had advised 
her to take her mother’s maiden name until the mystery 
hanging over the murder of Edgar Wilkerson was all 
cleared up. Hence she was known in the circle of ac- 
quaintances introduced to her by those good friends as 
Rosalind Wend worth. The Rev. Thomas Benson had a 
congregation in the city to whom he preached as often as 
it was possible, owing to his broad field of ministerial 
duties, and Rosalind had become one of the members of 
his congregation, also a singer in the choir. She had 
found her element through the most unfortunate circum- 
stances; but, believing in the mercies of a divine provi- 
dence, she accepted the cruel fate that had befallen her 
as having been sent upon her for her own spiritual good. 
Through this means she had found the work that her 
Master had for her to do, and became a faithful servant 
in His vineyard. The struggle she had experienced with 
poverty had taught her a grand lesson of life, and she 
now truly understood the trials of the poor, and knew 
how to sympathize with them and anticipate their wants. 
Hence she had joined the Ladies’ Benevolent Society, and 
became an angel of charity in those poverty stricken 
abodes, ever ready to help the sick and needy. Such had 
been her life since the light of good fortune illumined her 
way, and if she was not happy she was at least serenely 
content. She had always had an exceedingly clear, sweet 


CONCLUSION. 


427 


voice, which her father had taken great pains to cultivate, 
who had not only been gifted with fine oratorical pro- 
clivities, but had been a vocalist as well, and since the faith 
and hope of her Christian religion had re-established itself 
in her life, all her soul seemed to have found expression 
in her voice, the beauty and strength of which had become 
a marvel in the church of Mr. Benson. Upon this balmy 
April evening she was sitting alone in the twilight resting 
after her day’s work, for since the sun rose that morning 
she had been busy amongst her poor. And while she sat 
there her thoughts involuntarily roamed back to the past. 
Some way throughout the whole day she had been think- 
ing of Gerald, her lost love, and with her face turned to 
the window she gave herself up to those sad, sweet mem- 
ories as one would raise the white drapery and gaze upon 
the face of their dead. During the day she had gone to 
the hospital with some ladies to take fruit and. flowers to 
the patients; while there she had picked up a Kentucky 
newspaper and glanced hurriedly over it. The paper wasr 
three weeks old, but still was of interest to her, as she 
rarely had an opportunity of getting news from her old 
home, hence she looked at once for the society notes of 
the Bluegrass. And sure enough, there was a long item 
contained therein of the Underwoods. The party had re- 
turned from abroad earlier than they had anticipated on 
account of the illness of the bride’s sister. Miss Millie 
Underwood; after this there was a brief mention made of 
Mrs. Porter, who was then sojourning at Frankfort, whom 
rumor said would in a short time become Mrs. Under- 
wood. And while Rosalind pondered over this, she asked 


428 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


herself over and over, “Would this woman make him 
hapj3y?” never thinking that the notice alluded to the 
father instead of the son. 

So engrossed had she become in ruminating over those 
things, she was all unconscious that the door-bell had 
sounded until Marietta had crossed the room and stood 
at her side. 

“A gentleman to see you. Miss Kosalind,” she said, 
handing her young mistress a card. 

The twilight shadows had deepened, and the lamps had 
not been lighted, hence Kosalind could not decipher the 
name, but supposing it to be some one the minister had 
sent to see her, she kept her position, and only replied to 
the old servant to “show the gentleman in.” 

Then there came through the doorway a man’s form, 
and tho’ she was unable to distinguish his features in the 
dim light, as he approached her she felt that indefinable 
influence, that subtle warning, which visits a woman 
when her beloved draws near. The perceptions of the 
soul, swift, mysterious and unerring, had acknowledged 
his presence. Her physical strength seemed to desert 
her; her heart beat with quick and uneven throbs. She 
raised her .eyes, and true to her intuition, there stood 
Gerald close beside her. It was all she could do to re- 
strain the cry of joy that arose to her lips; but remem- 
bering that he was the affianced husband of another, she 
repressed the glad words and tried to greet him calmly. 

At this moment Marietta lighted the hall lamp, the 
shaded light of which fell full upon her beautiful face and 
slender figure, robed in the gray dress that clung about 


CONCLUSION. 


429 


her in graceful folds, the white rosebuds at her throat, all 
making the tout ensemble exquisite in its beauty and sim- 
plicity, while the blue silk drapery of the window hang- 
ings formed the background of the loveliest picture that 
could be imagined. For some moments the two stood 
there silently regarding each other, tlien Gerald’s voice, 
deep and tremulous with emotion, sounded upon the still- 
ness: 

“Rosalind, Rosalind, thank God I have found you at 
last!” were the words that came in thrilling tones to her 
ear, but she could speak no word in reply, and only 
looked up at him in dumb bewilderment. 

“Is it possible that you have no word of greeting for 
me, after I have searched all this city over to find you?” 
he asked, sadly. 

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Underwood, but I cannot 
understand why you have searched for me?” she asked, 
almost incoherently. 

“That I might be the first to tell you the good news; 
can you bear it, Rosalind? Nerve yourself, my dear 
girl, and hear from my own lips that the murderer of 
Edgar Wilkerson has been found, and all calumny has 
been lifted from your fair name.” 

A glad cry burst from her lips and her hands clasped 
themselves together in a silent prayer of thankfulness. 

“And, Rosalind, I came also to search you out that I 
might ask your forgiveness for ever doubting your truth 
and purity. Do you think you can find it in your true heart 
to pardon the great wrong you have suffered at the hands 
of my family ?” 


430 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


“With you there is nothing to forgive; you have never 
wronged me. As to any one else, I pray that God may 
forgive them as I have.” 

“Thank you for such noble sentiments,” he said, 
gravely; “and now, Kosalind, I have a story to tell you,” 
he continued, leading her to a seat by the window; and, 
while they sat in the gloaming, he told her of Millie’s 
sickness and death, and how she confessed to him her 
love for Edgar Wilkerson and her weak folly of presisting 
in carrying on a clandestine correspondence with him, 
thus implicating Kosalind, and also of Mrs. Porter’s perfidy 
in supposedly copying Millie’s letter in Rosalind’s hand- 
writing; and how, from the bedside of the dying girl, he 
had been called to the fish pond where a second inquest 
was being held, which proved to be that of the mysterious 
creature that had haunted his ancestral home since his boy- 
hood, the history of which he had never fully known until 
it was revealed by the old negro who had been its attend- 
ant. And lastly, how the shrewd detective had traced 
the crime to the uncanny imbecile. He related every- 
thing, and ended by describing the intense interest that 
had prevailed amidst the expectant group, and the shout 
of joy that had arisen when it was proclaimed that she 
(Kosalind) was guiltless. And while he spoke, Rosalind 
listened as one in a dream, almost doubting her senses. 
Then Gerald rose up and stood before her, and, in the 
fullness of his heart, said: 

“I am not oidy here, Rosalind, for the purpose of tell- 
ing you this, but to tell you again how I have always 
loved you, and ask you, in plain words, to be my wife.” 


CONCLUSION. 


431 


There came no response from the beautiful lips, but in 
the expression of supreme happiness that illumined her 
face, and shone from the depths of her pansy-blue eyes 
when she held out her hands to him, Gerald was an- 
swered — for truly “love’s words are weak, but not love’s 
silence. ” 

^ * * ***** 

Another year has passed, and again the beautiful spring- 
time is shedding warmth and brightness over the lovely 
old home of Ivy Crown; again it is radiant with verdure 
and bloom. But there has been many changes around 
and about the old place within the last twelve months — 
Judge Underwood has aged wonderfully under the blow 
of Millie’s death and the humiliating knowledge that the 
family secret he had so carefully guarded all these years 
had at last been brought to light; and it would be diffi- 
cult to recognize, in the bowed head and silvered hair, 
the stately Judge of a year ago. The information im- 
parted to him by Gerald of Millie’s love affair with Edgar 
Wilkerson, and Mrs. Porter’s duplicity in the matter, had 
also seriously affected him, and, it is needless to say, 
caused the engagement between he and the handsome 
widow to be at once cancelled. As to Mrs. Porter, — 
though she avoids meeting any of the Underwood family — 
outwardly there are no signs of remorse of conscience; 
she is far too much of the earth’s earthly to allow any- 
thing of a spiritual nature to trouble her life — the time 
has not yet come for her to think and feel. 

Henry and Edwin, the two sprightly cadets, are still 


432 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


rivals as regards the fair Nellie Stevenson, who is a great 
belle in the charmed circles. 

Nettie has gone back to school to complete her studies, 
profiting bj Millie’s experience, a wiser if not happier 
girl. 

The Bartons have taken up their abode in one of the 
most fashionable hotels of Lexington. Henrietta, being 
averse to the responsibility of a house, spends her time 
in receiving and paying calls, driving, theater-going, 
and every other way that goes to make up the life 
of a devotee to the useless, tiresome life of fashion. 
Old man Norton has again gone abroad, this time accom- 
panied by his son, of whom he yet hopes to make a man, 
neither of whom ever mention the reprobate woman bear- 
ing their honored name. Fred Underwood has grown 
taller and handsomer since we last saw him, and there is 
a subdued sadness about him since Millie’s death that 
gives him a thoughtful air and gentleness of demeanor, 
at once charming and sympathetic. Old lady Underwood 
is still the devoted grandmother, whose many deeds of 
loving kindness are forever being showered about her, 
and tho’ her silver hair of a year ago is now snowy white, 
and her form is bent under the burden of her grief, she 
still fulfills her missions of charity and love. But there 
is another mistress who has come to reign over the grand 
old mansion, whose beautiful young presence sheds light 
and happiness around her, and whose hands are, also, 
ever ready to help the poor, administer to the sick, and 
reached out to raise the fallen and unfortunate, and this 
is no other than Gerald’s lovely and accomplished wife — 


CONCLUSION. 


433 


Rosalind. She can scarcely realize, in her great happi- 
ness, that she had once gone from thence a lonely and 
forsaken wanderer, a supposed criminal resting under the 
weight of the strongest proofs of circumstantial evi- 
dence. But such was true, and she remembers, with all 
the warmest gratitude possible, that during this trying 
ordeal honest John Wilkerson had proven her benefactor, 
hence she never fails to extend to him and his family her 
kindest hospitality and most friendly interest. That her 
labor is reaping its reward is clearly manifested in the 
fact of Mrs. Wilkerson having softened down wonder- 
fully, and, to the surprise of the neighborhood, has be- 
come a regular church-goer, and has also consented that 
her hitherto neglected daughters shall be sent to boarding- 
school. Thus it is that Rosalind still finds work in abund- 
ance in her Master’s vineyard, and is never found want- 
ing. Tho’ beautiful, graceful, and sufficiently accom- 
plished to become the reigning queen of the most elite 
circle of society in that aristocratic locality, she gives no 
thought to those things, her whole heart and soul being 
fully devoted to her home, Christian work, and her hus- 
band. Her divine faith has worked wonders with Gerald, 
who no longer bases his religion on moral philosophy or 
brings science to bear against things of a spiritual nature. 
Though science has taught him much in his past research, 
he has found that its principles were not of the best or 
the highest. And now all former illusions which had 
strangled his religious faith have passed away, and the 
immortal part of his being has been restored to its right- 
ful sovereignty. He has found the piety, the reverence 
88 


434 


ROSALIND MORTON. 


and humble Christianity of his wife so beautiful within 
themselves, that he has become inspired with the same 
divine faith, and in the religion of Jesus Christ his spirit 
has found a sweet peace and rest beyond the strife, con- 
flict and bitter lessons the world has taught him. He has 
found his guiding star, his angel of mercy, whose wings 
have sheltered him from the sin and temptation of the 
world, for in Rosalind’s love his life has obtained the 
fruition of all its desires, and in the knowledge that her 
husband is her helper in all her good works, Rosalind is 
supremely content and blissfully happy; yet, in the vague 
melancholy that floats at times like a little cloud upon her 
horizon, she thinks of the darkness and gloom that once 
encompassed her, and of the fateful mystery that hov- 
ered over beautiful old Ivy Crown, and then her soul is 
lifted up in a prayer of thankfulness, for she remembers 
that out of the darkness and gloom of despair has come 
the light of divine happiness. 


THE END. 


V. 





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